


Of Stars and Stone

by irishrebel



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Drama, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 83,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6547834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishrebel/pseuds/irishrebel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Tauriel, all hope is lost when she believes that Durin's line has fallen. But Ilúvatar and Aulë have other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling to Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> The rating will be changed eventually when warranted so be prepared for fluff (eventually), and tags will be added as we go along! Any comments/criticism is welcome!! This is my first attempt at Kili/Tauriel!

“Tauriel!”

Hope. It soared through me more than I dared let it when I heard my name being called from above. When I watched a flurry of dwarf fly to my aid and land on the orc’s shoulders. It left me just as quickly as Kili was tossed onto the steps and I lunged back into the fray. But it was in vain, as Kili was dragged up in the orc’s large fist and he shook me off his shoulders like a rag doll.

Any air left from being tossed aside by Bolg expelled sharply from my lungs as I watched the blade pierce Kíli's chest. Time froze as I watched him gasp and turn his eyes to me, longing for a life he would never live and a future we could never share, a promise given that he couldn’t keep. It was then I understood and could no longer deny that every part of my being longed for his. It was at that moment I understood his words at the shoreline and how foolish it was of me to turn away when I had. As Kili fell and Bolg turned to me I vowed vengeance even if it took me from this existence… preferably it would as I felt the essence inside me break. Rage and sorrow flung me forward as I swung up and around Bolg’s neck and shoved off the ledge to force us over and down the cliffside. Everything went dark and black as we tumbled.

Kili’s voice rang in my ears. _Throw me a dagger! Quick!_ The jagged stone broke under us as we fell further down Ravenhill’s wall. _She thinks I’m reckless._ We crashed to a ledge and I groaned, seeing nothing but darkness and feeling nothing but cold.

Around me I heard what sounded like the crashing of a mountain, the clang of steel, battle cries echoing up from the valley below. I struggled to roll over and tried to clear my vision. But the world spun in a speckled fog as I clamored and crawled back up the mountain to where my heart had been split in two.

There was so little blood, I mused mournfully, collapsing on Kili’s prone form. There was no flood as I expected as my hands searched for life, for pulse, for warmth. I could not take my eyes from his face, pale and peaceful for such an end. I raised myself back from him and not once did I notice the flow of tears begin to fall down my face onto him, for all I felt was cold and empty.

I felt the presence of my king as he approached but all sense of propriety and servitude had long left me.

“They’ll want to bury him.” I murmured.

“Yes.”

“If this is love I do not want it. Take it from me? Please?” I looked up at him finally, pleading and desperate. Shaking my head, I closed my eyes and cried, “Why does it hurt so much!?”

“Because it was real.”

Did he say it was real? Had the disbelief not struck me, I might have noticed the glistening tears in his eyes and the compassion and love I claimed was so lacking in him. I looked back to where the embodiment of my heart lay. Thranduil receded into the shadows of the broken fortress and I leaned down and gazed again at Kili. So this was love. It was real. This was the loss of oneself only so soon after being given a glimpse of what could have been.

Left alone again to my ever growing grief, I shivered in a cold I’d never felt before. Kili’s coal-black curls were matted and I brushed my fingers gently through them, desperate for any last connection I might find as the weight of what I had denied us while he was with me settled on my chest. The pain was immense and felt as though my fëa was being ripped from me. I now saw where my tears had fallen to mingle with his as he had fallen under the orc’s pike. My fingers sought to smooth his hair as I lay my head to his chest, looking up at his resting face and whispered through my tears to him.

_“Gwannach o innen ului. Ú galad, ú vin anor hen. Ú lû erui, ului. Dannen le. A ú-erin le regi.”_

The sobs shook me as I clung to him desperately. Time receded into the corners of my mind as I lay there with him, wishing and imagining the life we might have had and never would. But he had gone where I could not follow. I shut my eyes as if I could will my fëa and hröa to follow him. Even if separate in the halls of our ancestors, I could not imagine staying in this life without him. I let the weight of my grief draw me into an oblivion I sought.

When I felt gentle hands on my shoulders, I recoiled in agony that the pain was still so real, so deep, and that I still clung to this living world. The sleep I seemed to awaken from had given me little rest when swarmed by all too brief memories. All around me now were the deep and quiet mutterings of whispering dwarves on one side and a small grouping of stoically still elves on the other.

The voice reached me as if through a tunnel, echoing and distant. “Come now, he’s long gone to the halls with his kin.”

I blinked wearily at the grey haired Dwarf crouched to the other side of Kili, hands on my shoulders trying to raise me from his prince. The tears that had subsided swam into my eyes once more as reality again came crashing around me. The dwarf and his companions seemed to shift uncomfortably around me. I did not know nor care how long they had seen me there. But I then felt regret and grief as I turned to find Legolas stand in to make another attempt.

 _“O hon ú-wannathon,_ ” I pleaded with Legolas.

He tucked a strand behind my ear and with no derision or malice begged I take my leave, in softer tones but still echoing his command from the shoreline. _“Ú-moe le anno nad.”_

 _“Gar vethed e-chúnen, go hon bedithon na meth.”_ My breath hitched and I struggled to hold back a sob.

“Tauriel, you are not alone in your grief. You must let his people take care of him now. Let yours care for you.”

What may have remained of my strength, my will, faltered under the gentle pressure of Legolas’ hands and eyes. I nodded and glanced up to see that Thranduil had not left as I had imagined. Perhaps he had more heart than I gave him credit for. Perhaps he simply waited for his son.

Knowing that this was the last time I would see or touch my beloved and reckless dwarf with whom my time had been cut so short, I placed his hand against my cheek and murmured my final words to him.

 _“An i ú nathant… An i naun ului…”_ I sighed and leaned into Kili, so unchanged and still, frozen in time forever.

Moving to press my lips to the only one to have ever stolen my heart, I shuddered holding back the terror of being left to walk this world alone without his light and love. His lips so soft and … warm? No, I shut my eyes hard against my own foolish hope. I brushed my palm along his dark matted curls and across the shadow of stubble that graced his chin. I sobbed quietly and pressed my lips to his once more as I placed the runestone in his gloved hand and held it in mine against his chest. As I began to lean away I felt a flutter of breath across my lips and chided myself for this painful imagining of my heart.

The tears seemed to come from an unending well as I tried to stand, feeling as though every inch of me was twisted and torn. Kili was at peace in his Halls of Waiting and I was alone. I saw no elves around me, no dwarves but for the dark haired hunter on the snow. Weakness flooded my body as I felt myself slipping, the world swimming and tilting in agony. The Halls of Mandos must be waiting for me. Everything went grey and mute and I allowed myself to sink into the darkness, imagining that the calling of my name at the end of that blackness was Kili calling me to his side one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translations:
> 
> “Gwannach o innen ului. Ú galad, ú vin anor hen. Ú lû erui, ului. Dannen le. A ú-erin le regi.” (You never left my mind. Not once, not ever. There is no more light, not in this sun. You have fallen. And I cannot reach you.)
> 
> “O hon ú-wannathon,” (I will not leave him.)  
> “Ú-moe le anno nad.” (You owe him nothing)  
> “Gar vethed e-chúnen, go hon bedithon na meth.” (He has the last of my heart. I will go with him to the end.)
> 
> “An i ú nathant… An i naun ului…” (For what might have been, For what never was.)


	2. In the Light

The scenes from the battle kept flashing before me, the sounds of metal against metal or rending flesh. Part of me fought to hold to the last sound of hearing Kili call my name, and with each remembrance of his call my vision would suddenly fill with his face as he took his last breaths and fell under Bolg’s blow. Screams tried to form, my body fought to rise and go to his aid, looped in this unending fight to save him yet again. But I remained still and silent, frozen and mute.

Cold. Were the Halls of Mandos carved from ice? I may not have expected warmth but neither did I expect the piercing pain and shivers that wracked my body. It was like being stabbed by frozen stinging nettles from head to toe. All was still dark and it felt as though the weight of the world pinned me to where I lay. Was I on that mountainside? Had I succumbed and fallen beside my love at Ravenhill? Oh were that so, but even in our Halls of Waiting we could not be together again. Let the blackness come and take me to never wait or return.

I heard sounds of movement. The tinkling of metal, the soft sweep of cloth, dripping of water. Soft low muttering surrounded me in hushed whispers but I could not seem to lift my eyelids as if they had sealed like a tomb. There was a constant ache in my chest that I tried to move away from but I was locked motionless, trembling from the cold, praying to the Valar that this plight would end.

The voices around me became harsh while the pressure on my chest threatened to crush me.

“ _Farn, Legolas._ She has brought this upon herself.” The harshness of tone in his voice swamped me with recognition as one I knew and had once pledged myself to. If I could see anything past this darkness and pain I might imagine Thranduil’s eyes slit as he glowered over me, admonishing my every action leading to my demise.

“And you accept no part in her ruin, yet stand there to let her diminish and fade?” He who had always come to my aid, my defence, Legolas’ voice echoed around me.

“You know it isn’t as simple as that.” Thranduil sounded weary through the dim tunnel as I heard more movement around me, as weary as I, wishing the voices and noise to cease.

“Make it that simple. Her suffering does you no justice. If you allow this, I will never go back.”

I tried to cry out, to scream that I was dying and to leave me in peace, but no sound escaped my lips, none of the tears I felt within me trailed my cheek. _Let me die_ , I thought, willing them with every ounce of remaining energy to hear me.

“I cannot bring her back if she chooses to go. Her fëa has been torn and hangs on the edge of a knife. Should she turn away, there is nothing I can do. But perhaps…” Thranduil sighed, closer but still far as my body shivered and screamed in silence.

Something warm pressed to my forehead sending a deep shudder coursing through me. Another warm pressure surged from my hip and while it held relief it only increased the throbbing ache in my chest until I thought I might be crushed under its weight. I could feel the warmth fighting the cold grip on me, within me, as my heart fought its own hopeless battle with grief. My body twisted in turmoil, and I heard a soft chanting as warmth teased and scorched through me. One moment I felt the icy grips of ten thousand winters reaching into the depths of my fëa, and the next I am being scorched like dragon fire.

I heard someone scream and my eyes shot open struggling to comprehend what looked like the light of a thousand suns burning into me from where Thranduil’s hands pressed onto my flesh. Legolas was suddenly beside me, searching my eyes for what I did not know, failing to hide the fear in his own. He grasped my shoulder as my body flexed against their hands. The scream had been my own. Thranduil’s eyes seemed to burn through me, heat and light radiating from the whole of his proud and regal form. To look upon him as he was now bathed in light and fierce, his own enchantments fading from his face, was to see his full power and fear him.

“She is worsening! Father!”

“ _Gwao hi!_ ”

My eyes locked on to Legolas’, pleading. There was a great struggle in him as he dare not interfere, but neither did he want to abandon me. He glanced up at his father for a moment, witnessing the same fierce focus and energy I had feared and seemed instantly resigned to be ushered from my side.

Thranduil’s deep and melodic voice echoed through the cavern of despair I was halfheartedly clinging to.

“ _Ú-erich leithio, Tauriel. Tolo dan nan galad._ ” he urged, sudden and soft in appeal.

My back arched as another lance of heat shot from my head to my chest and down through my legs. A wracking sob escaped my lips and I felt hot tears streak down my cheek. Thranduil whispered to me words I could not make out as I shook with each sob. My body had finally began to calm and relax as I felt Thranduil’s palm brush my forehead. He brushed hair behind my ears and wiped tears from my face. I tried to speak, to find any words that might be a balm to either of us but nothing came. The blinding light slowly subsided and dulled into a soft shimmer as it faded and my eyes fought to stay open. I thought I saw him stumble into a chair beside me and felt the weight of a blanket laid across me. As a faint feeling of comfort and love began to seep through me I could not help but give in. The raging heat began to dissipate, the ringing in my ears quieted, and a different kind of darkness pulled at me. Exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translations:
> 
> “Farn,” (Enough)  
> “Gwao hi!” (Go now!)  
> “Ú-erich leithio” (You cannot let go.)  
> “Tolo dan nan galad.” (Come back to the light).


	3. Coming Around

Groaning turned into a fit of coughs for the hoarse dryness of my throat. My head was lifted and a cool cup of water pressed to my lips. I drank deeply, the liquid like a healing balm sluicing down my throat. Before I opened my eyes, I was gently propped upright and felt fingers probing my temple, then my shoulder and hips. I knew not how long I slept and remembered little. Everything that flitted across my memory did so like a disjointed dream and nothing more, with no sense and mere shadows dancing around me. I struggled with the fog.

“She’s healing faster now.”

What did that mean? I looked curiously at the elven healer, wondering to whom she spoke as I was right in front of her not warranting discussion of me as an absent party. Only when I followed her eyes to looking seemingly above and beyond me, did I know we were not alone. She nodded curtly before leaving the room, and I knew only the King of our realm demanded such courtesy. My weak state would not have permitted me proper etiquette even had I attempted it. All the same, I stayed still and waited for him to come into view, the fog in my mind still clinging to the edges of my memory and vision.

I felt as though I had fire on my tongue, anger, sorrow, a cavern of emotions with which to fling cruelly at him. All of it welled inside of me as though we were still on a battlefield. I glared furiously at him, prepared to spit venom. Thranduil moved closer in a silent sweep of his gowns and lifted my chin with one finger. I felt myself vibrate with what restraint I could muster as he held my chin and eyed me suspiciously from head to toe and looked with uncomfortable depth into my eyes. 

“I can see the pain of your body has lessened. May I hope that the pain of your heart will be soon to pass.” With that, he took a distancing step back, lost in thought as the healer brought in a fresh water basin and wash cloths.

Shock at his words had me gasping, silencing the ill thoughts towards him. There were times when I had wished he might offer me the comfort a father would, and times when I thought it possible. Yet, the warmth and kindness in his words were not to be found on his face. The blood and scratches that had been there when last I could recall laying eyes on him were long since healed and vanished. I knew some of what enchantments lay upon him that hid the worst of his wounds from dragon fire, and yet his skin and face were as perfect as cold carved marble. There was no remnant of his wounds or of the strain from healing me.

“I… Everything is so unclear. I feel as though my memory is a puzzle with a missing center.”

“It will return. In time.”

When I began to ask for any salvation from this confusion and feeling of walking lost in a maze, Legolas came bounding in to grasp at my hand and bow his head at my side.

“Tauriel…” He pressed my palm to his cheek and raised a brow at me. “You look terrible.”

I chuckled. “Why do I think that I would look all the worse if not for you?”

He shrugged and grinned ever so slightly. When I tried to rise off my sickbed, to swing my legs off the side, Thranduil’s hand came down on my shoulder to keep me still.

Flustered, I protested. “I’m fine. If the battle is still being waged, I belong in the field.”

I watched as father and son exchanged a brief glance before Legolas moved from beside me, deferring to Thranduil who began to pace. “The battle has passed and the dwarves have reclaimed Erebor. There is nothing for you to do now but rest and recover.”

“Am I not recovered?” I questioned, beginning to wonder if there were other reasons than injury that had brought me the healing house.

Legolas interjected, sensing a growing impatience in his father. “Your injuries were… more extensive, than we initially believed.”

When I tried to recall any injuries, the fog blocked my vision and memory again. “But…” I struggled to remember past drawing my weapon at Thranduil. The shock of his blade breaking my bow caused me to wince. “I cannot… I do not remember.”

I did not notice Legolas’ questioning look at his father, nor Thranduil’s subtle shake of his head.

“I do hope that you at least remember your place in this realm and do as you are bid.” The king had stopped his pacing to pierce me with a glare. “Lest you loose your tongue at me again, I promise you, I won’t be so forgiving next time.”

I swallowed audibly and tried to stiffen my spine. “If my penance is to be sequestered from the world, I would at the least not be relegated to a sick bed. I am perfectly fine.”

“If you were fine, then measures would not have had to be taken by myself. There would not be a healer checking on you in the night. There would be color to your flesh, and light in your eyes. Do not waste yet another chance you are being given. Willful child, for once do as you are told and ask no more questions!”

My confidence wavered as I felt hot tears filling my eyes. I beat them back before they could fall and embarrass me in weakness. I nodded solemnly, silently, and resigned myself to whatever fate might have in store for me without really knowing what had brought me to this point. I had so many questions, like how much time was lost between confronting my king and now. He spun to the doorway and was gone in a flurry.

Legolas moved forward again, drawing close a chair and sitting at my side. “We lost many and he is weary and desperate to put it all behind him. You remind him too much of his failings.” 

“There is little I can do about that.” Being obstinate may not be helpful but it at least made me feel a little less wounded.

Legolas sighed. “We both seem doomed to misunderstanding him.”

“ _Mellon_ , will you not tell me what has come to pass? What of Dale, Erebor... ”

“There will be time for all of that. For now, my father is right. You must rest, and we will speak more later.”

“Legolas, please. At least tell me why I am relegated to this chamber. There is a weakness I have never felt and cannot place, but I do not understand.”

“You were wounded. You fought valiantly, but took a great fall…” He hesitated, seeming to weigh his words carefully.

I scoffed. “I have taken many falls.” When he stayed silent, a dark dread began to fill my heart but still I could not grasp at the strands of memory.

“My father had to help. Do not undo what he has done. Be still.” Legolas brushed his hand along my forehead and cheek to help soothe, but I was still so lost.

“Your father… healed me? I…”

“Your body was not healing.”

“But…” There was only one reason that an elf would not heal from any mortal wound. If this was true, then that would mean… My heart began to pound in my ears and I vaguely heard myself ask to be alone. Legolas gripped my hand and left me as I curled into myself and wept.


	4. Turning the Lock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much to everyone for the kudos and comments! I'm absolutely LOVING writing this so I hope you are enjoying reading it just as much!! Bit of a heads up, the next chapter won't be posted until May 3rd probably at the earliest as I'll be out of town for a bit, but I promise there's more coming!

The chamber had become a prison. They continued to tell me that I was no prisoner, but I was expected to remain in my room until I healed. I would have sworn the healer was part of my guard rather than sent to check on my progress. It was shocking there wasn’t a worn path where I paced for what felt like the last week if not two. I had gotten no more answers as Legolas had seen me only once more since that first day. Thranduil had been absent completely. I may as well have been alone in the world but for the occasional visits of the elven healer changing the sheets, checking my status, and otherwise annoying me with her random hovering. I was either left to complete solitude, or poked and prodded, and spent my nights restless and haunted by senseless dreams.

Each day since I had been able to leave my bed after the first week, I watched the comings and goings of those who once were my friends out of the corner window. It seemed that life within the woodland realm continued as though no battle had been waged near its borders. When I felt more under my own power and strength, I tried to walk the halls of the kingdom. But on the occasions I had attempted to venture outside of my lodgings, I was almost as quickly escorted back. Guards were placed outside my door after only two such attempts. There were obviously conditions to my being and remaining in Mirkwood, whether I knew them or not.

I spent as much of my time watching the world outside as I did trying to remember that which was missing from my memory. Some things were so clear, but it was if the pages in my book had become smudged and then blank as hell broke upon the slopes of the mountain. As I sat at the edge of my bed and focused on my memories, I let what I could flood my senses. I watched many elves fall and the men and women of Laketown take up arms to defend Dale as best they could as Legolas and I returned from Gundabad. I knew orcs and other foul creatures were descending from all sides, with more still to come, and yet I could hear the sound of the horn beckoning the elves to retreat. I fought my way towards the city and blocked the passage in front of the Elvenking. As words formed, they became muted to my ears and everything began to dissolve away around me, leaving me once again lost to confusing darkness.

I opened my eyes to find tears on my cheeks. I groaned and returned to my watch at the window to see Legolas heading out towards the gates. He paused and glanced behind him, up towards me. I raised my hand as if to wave, to hope he might visit me in my solitude, but he turned and was gone. I barely had a moment to wonder when I heard footfalls approach and a light knock to my door. I turned with a scowl for the healer, surprised to find Thranduil inside the threshold.

I nodded curtly. “My Lord.”

He moved further into the room, the door closing quietly behind him.

“I hear that you are restless and would leave these halls.”

Though a great many moments were missing, I did recall too clearly being informed of my banishment before riding to Gundabad. Not knowing the fallout beyond this was just leading to more questions.

“I should not be sequestered to wither alone without knowing the reason.”

As if knowing my thoughts, he glanced coldly at me. “Would you prefer the comfort of our dungeons?”

I turned away and looked out the window once more. “Is this to be my punishment?”

“Your orders were clear and yet you defied them. You defied me. Why should I trust you to roam our halls free as though still captain of our guard?”

My heart tightened uncomfortably at his words. I did not expect forgiveness and had no comprehension of what my future may hold. Yet, there was still hurt at the definitive knowledge that I no longer had a place here among the people that had been the only home I’d known.

“What do you remember?” he asked quietly. He moved towards a side table near the bed, turning a stone over and over in his palm as he gazed at me, expressionless.

His movement was momentarily distracting and I wondered what it was he held. The restlessness he spoke of took me over again as I began to pace. “So little. It isn’t so much as bits and pieces, but it is as if my days simply stopped one moment and began again. After the dragon was slain, Legolas and I rode to Gundabad.” I chose carefully to exclude my memory of the king calling back his son and banishing me, though the recollection was crystal clear.

“And?”

“We witnessed the armies of orc and bats pour from  Ângmâr and we rushed back hoping we weren’t too late. I… My Lord, I heard your horn. I saw you aiming to retreat. Please tell me we did not leave the others to fend for themselves and run to hide within our walls!” I pleaded with him, unsure of the outcome. All that they had told me was that many were lost but the mountain had been reclaimed. “Why can I not remember? Will you not tell me?”

He turned and poured water from the pitcher on the bedside table into a glass for himself, and drank deeply. “Do you remember when once I told you that with your skill and cunning, you could go far?”

“Yes.”

“And so I still believe. But you have been headstrong all your life, questioning me at every turn. Where someone less patient might not have tolerated your willfulness, I have tried to guide you. For 600 years, there have been no others short of my son that I have given as much attention.”

“And now?”

“Now…” He turned the stone over in his hand, eyeing it almost disdainfully one last time before setting it down and returning his gaze to me. “Now we live in a different world. Though the threat is not as great as before, the shadows linger and vigilance cannot give way to laziness. The dwarves have reclaimed their homeland and men once more walk the streets of Dale, rebuilding broken alliances. We will wait and see how their endeavors unfold. But I cannot have a captain who does not obey her king. You have left me little choice.”

I stood quiet, staring with tears in my eyes. “If I am banished, let me go! Will you keep me in the dark forever? Lock me in this room until the world turns to dust?”

He took two large steps towards me and the fierceness of all his power, the ages of life within him, nearly knocked me over. I fought to keep myself still, but felt myself vibrate under his glare, his wrath. Tears welled defiantly in my eyes uncontrollably as his voice echoed through the small chamber, his face so close to mine.

“What do you think you know of darkness? Of forever? You are a child. You have not seen the shadows of this world and the horror that lurks, waiting. What have you suffered that is so great it deserves limitless patience and forgiveness? Fortunes of the world rise and fall. Man and dwarf will die in a mere blink in our lives.”

I shook with such rage and fear that I could not contain the words that seemed to flow from me without thought. “Are our lives worth more than theirs? Is  _ your _ life worth more when there is no love in it? When there is no love in you!?”

For a moment, I might have thought I wounded him as he seemed to stumble backwards at my words. I did not know the echoing of my own words from the weeks before and how they haunted him, but for a mere moment I thought I saw how deeply my words had hurt him. His eyes grew wide and he straightened, standing tall and distant once more. I was grateful the tears in my eyes did not fall. With a look I had never seen on his face in all my years, he turned and left silently. When the door closed behind him, I heard locks turn and let out a short cry of frustration before kicking the leg of the table. The stone Thranduil had been turning in his hand tumbled off and fell at the toe of my boot.

I bent to retrieve it and stopped with my fingertips an inch away. I kneeled, sitting on my heels as I stared at the familiar but unreadable runes carved into the smooth rock. A sharp and painful ache echoed in my heart as my fingers yearned to touch the smooth surface. I reached for it again and went to trace the lines that held so many promises. As I grasped the stone in my hand, a heat radiated from it and a jumbled stream of images flashed in my mind. I cried out on a broken sob and covered my mouth as I gripped the stone. I could not make sense of anything but one. Only one image anchored me but could I dare to hope? Was this memory? A dream of the future? His face was all I saw. Warm and piercing eyes, coal black waving curls, and shadowy scruff along the chin. I could all but feel him there with me, his warm lips touching mine, his warmth around me. I closed my eyes as if to hold the image of his face in my mind and sighed.

“Kíli… What happened… Where are you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeek! Will Tauriel remember anything about the battle and Ravenhill? Is Thranduil cruel enough to really keep her locked away? I can't wait for you to find out! :D Stay tuned for the next update next week!


	5. Beyond the Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Thank you so much for the feedback on last chapter. I know you are all anxious to learn about what's happening with the dwarves, and we will be visiting Erebor in just a couple chapters, I promise! There are still a few things to learn in the woodland realm before we check in on the company!

We rushed quietly along the dimly lit paths, ducking through the columned corridors as silently as ghosts. If anyone had come upon us, we could explain our way out of any repercussions but it was still better to avoid a confrontation in the first place. Climbing the winding stairs up beyond the cave of the palace and onto the higher level outcroppings that looked upon the forest, I took a deep breath of night air to fill my lungs, winded from running. I felt a wave of relief wash over me as the starlight touched my skin, the moon hanging low but bright in the sky. I closed my eyes and breathed in the night and listened to the sounds of the forest around us. This was the second time that we had snuck away since Thranduil had confronted me and locked me in my room.

 _“Man le trasta, Legolas?”_ I opened my eyes and turned to face him, his brow knit as he watched me carefully. He shook his head as if exasperated that I could sense his unease.

“ _Han cenin vi chen lín.”_

“ _Man cenich?”_

“ _Naeth… wanath.”_

I turned away from him hoping to hide what fear lay in my heart at his words and gazed up at the stars above us.

“ _Dolen i vâd o nin_. Even the grief that holds my heart is hidden from my own mind. I know nothing of how the world has changed beyond these walls since we returned from Gundabad. But death? Am I not healed?”

“Your body, yes. But Tauriel… there is something more you do not know.”

“What more is there?” I questioned, still looking anywhere but at him.

He moved to stand beside me and followed my gaze up to the lights as they shimmered and danced above us. “Have I not known you for all your life? I know there is much you haven’t asked. I doubt my father has enlightened you.”

I would have laughed but all I could afford was a sigh as my heart began to race. Would I finally learn what had brought me back from exile only to be locked away? Would I learn the fate of those I sought to protect and help? I had dared not seek answers again from the king or his son out of what I had convinced myself was fear for whatever punishment still awaited me. That I had been afforded the ability to stay within these walls even if under lock and key was not lost on me. That I had a bed, food, water, and my banishment was, for the moment, not being so strictly enforced. I felt dread and gratefulness warring inside me since seeing the Elvenking in my chambers.

“And will you tell me? Will you shine light on this shadowed existence to which I have been condemned?”

“What you do not remember was shadowed in order to save you. He only…”

“Thranduil? You said that he healed me. But he did this to me?” I felt sick and lowered myself to the floor weakly. “Why?”

Legolas kneeled beside me. I could feel his eyes on me as I stared out across tree tops towards the towering mass of mountain in the distance.

“At Ravenhill, you were severely injured. We initially believed poison was the cause, but when we brought you to be healed, you would not recover. I can still sense great loss in you.”

I faced him, weary but angry and resentful at the unwilling loss of choice. Tears threatened in my eyes. “Then you sense more than I. What you tell me is as if I accepted my fate, accepted death, but I do not know why. I can only imagine one possible reason. Still… I have no memory to lead me to the conclusion you want me to believe. And I’m afraid that I don’t want to know.”

Standing, I began to pace the platform. But for all I had claimed to Thranduil, all I endeavored to show to Legolas that I was as strong as I had ever been, my energy had been waning steadily. Fatigue cruelly wrapped its fingers around my head and heart, and my body gave in as well. I leaned against the cold stone wall and fought to clear my mind of the turmoil raging inside me.

“Legolas. What happened?”

He began to recount what he knew and witnessed of the battle at Erebor, from when we first arrived on our hasty return from Gundabad, how we heard the bellowing horn of the king calling retreat. I gasped as he told me of my nocking an arrow at our king. While the memory did not return completely, I could almost hear Thranduil’s voice sweeping through the night demanding to know if I was willing to die for what I thought was love. It sent shivers through me and I sank to the floor. Tears threatened again, maddening me with a newly seated fear.

Legolas moved closer to kneel before me again as he then told me of Ravenhill and watching me fall from the ledge with Bolg. While he had not witnessed everything that had come to pass before we fell, he told me of finding me later back on the platform with Kili as I shut my eyes against the streaming tears. It felt like a dream. I knew what he said was truth as I could feel it within me, as the soul rending ache that had been wearing at me for weeks finally began to make sense. I felt as though I couldn’t breathe. He told me how he had planned to leave but when he heard that I could not be moved from Kili’s body, he had come to gather me and take me back. I barely heard him, my head just shaking in denial, but he continued. He knew it all needed to be said.

The composure on Legolas’ face cracked as told me of the shivering pain I had succumb to in the healing tent, how he had berated his father, and how Thranduil could only heal my body. There were no tears in his eyes as he recalled the tense moments of Thranduil’s decision, but an echo of pain lingered on his face as I tried to understand.

“Tauriel, he has said that your fëa has been torn. The only way that he could mend your broken body was to not let your memory interfere. Had you remembered, had you known and given up… I was insistent he help. I couldn’t watch you suffer in such pain.” He grasped both of my hands in his and searched my eyes. “Forgive me.”

“ _Ú-moe edaved, Legolas._ This was not your doing. _”_ I took away one hand and pressed my palm to his cheek. I looked up to the stars again, searching them for all I had lost, wishing that hope might not be as painful as heartbreak. I remembered the day Thranduil came to me and left the runestone on my bedside table and murmured almost to myself, “ _Nauthannen i ned ôl reniannen.”_

Legolas looked at me questioningly, waiting for me to explain.

“Your father left this when last we spoke. I thought it brought me dreams, but I know now it was memory.”

“What will you do?”

“If what you say is true, and I’ve never known you to lie, then I will go to Erebor. I have to know for sure.”

He stood and stepped back as if scalded. “Tauriel, there is nothing for you there now. If you leave, I cannot say what will happen or if the king will ever allow you to return. And you know I cannot go with you this time.”

I slowly raised myself from the ground and sighed, trying to control my breathing. I felt an urgency and panic rise within me and had to steady myself against the cool stone.

“You are still weak.” He reached for me but I shook my head.

“With what you say, this will not change. _Ú-ethelithon.”_

Anger crossed his face and he hissed at me. “ _Ethelithach!”_

“Legolas…” Weariness filled my body, my heart. I needed to go while I still had any will and strength left in me.

“ _Nach gwannatha sin? Ah im, ú-’erin lîn?”_

I bowed my head in sorrow.

“ _Gerich, mellon nîn._ I must go.” I looked at the stone in my hand and turned it over to look at the runes in the moonlight. Our eyes met in sadness but in understanding that our paths were never meant to run parallel forever. “If for nothing else, to return a promise.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translations:
> 
> "Man le trasta" (What troubles you)
> 
> “Han cenin vi chen lín.” (I see it in your eye.)
> 
> “Man cenich?” (What do you see?)
> 
> "Naeth… wanath." (Grief… death.)
> 
> "Dolen i vâd o nin." (My path is hidden from me.)
> 
> "Ú-moe edaved." (There is nothing to forgive.)
> 
> "Nauthannen i ned ôl reniannen." (I thought I had strayed into a dream.)
> 
> "Ú-ethelithon." (I will not be coming back.)
> 
> "Ethelithach!" (You will return!)
> 
> "Nach gwannatha sin? Ah im, ú-’erin lîn?" (Are you going to leave in such a way? Don’t I also have your love?)
> 
> "Gerich, mellon nîn." (You have, my friend.)


	6. Parting Ways

“I want _every_ _inch_ of the palace searched. NOW!” 

The guards bowed their heads curtly and quickly. They practically ran from the throne, if not to do their commanded duties, to distance themselves from the wrath of their king.

Thranduil made his way down the wrapping stairs from his carved wooden throne and poured a cup of wine. He took one sip before tossing it aside to shatter on a stone column.

“Is everything alright?” Legolas looked at the broken glass at his feet. He'd heard the king raging and had timed his entrance luckily enough to miss being clobbered in the head by flying glassware.

The Elvenking turned sharply at his son and eyes him suspiciously. “Do not think me a fool that is unaware you've been giving the former captain respite from her… detention.”

“You knew I would.”

Thranduil huffed and turned away with a flourish of his silver cloak, climbing once again the steps to his throne. He seemed to speak nearly to himself as he arranged himself on the carved wood. “I should let her go if she has indeed left the kingdom. The pair of you would see to it I am never obeyed. I often feel like I have two insolent children instead of one.”

“Why did you give her the stone?” When the king remained silent, Legolas stepped forward. “You knew she would begin to remember. So why?”

“Her body has healed as much as it may with her soul torn from her. Let her chose her fate.”

“I do not understand.”

“Perhaps one day you will.” Thranduil finally looked his son in the eyes and allowed some of his deeply hidden emotions to touch his face. “You think I am heartless because I do not wear grief on my sleeve. When you have seen and felt what I have through the long ages of this world, you may begin to know.”

It was no secret that his father had fought the fire drakes, seen greater wars than what may to him have been a skirmish at Erebor. There was no greater warrior than Thranduil. But love is not something he ever spoke of, not even to Legolas.

“You sought to protect her?”

“What we saw at Ravenhill… I would not wish the long years of grief on anyone. But I would not deny the kind of love I felt for your mother.” Legolas looked at him with barely contained surprise at her mention. “Or that she felt for you.”

The king bowed his head and looked away, as if willing away the memories before the cold facade returned to his face.

“No matter. If she is not in the palace, I would have you bring her back.”

“You would still cage her?”

“Penance must be paid. Not forever. I am more just than you may believe.”

Legolas turned and looked out into the cavernous palace hewn from stone, columns reaching both deep and high. He remembered watching from above as Tauriel spoke with the dwarf in the dungeons. He hadn't really understood until Ravenhill. Until the moment he found her weeping over the dark haired archer, he believed her always over zealous heightened sense of inclusion and protection for even those outside the realm was the motive. She had fought bravely in Laketown and not followed as they left the dwarves behind. He knew she struggled with his command when he had interrupted her moment on the shore.

Even when she threatened his king and father, he tried to believe that her motives were simply driven by rightness and the need to protect. He knew he'd been lying to himself, though he may have done the same.  His love for her as a friend and companion for so many centuries never grew to the level that she had so obviously come to feel for the dwarf. While he had hoped his feelings for her might grow into more, he knew long before a company of 13 dwarves entered the realm that they were never meant for a life together. Would he now take her away yet again from the path she seemed so destined to follow? Everything was taking her to Erebor, so would he be the one to bring her back to a fate of waiting to die in a cold chamber cell?

His choice decided, he turned to his father and approached him. “I will not go after her.”

Cold fury leapt into Thranduil’s eyes even if he understood.

“And I cannot stay.”

At that, the king rose and came down to stand in front of his son, holding his temper in check as best he could. His anger was directed at himself for allowing his arrogance and need for appearances to drive away one of the last people he truly loved. He wanted to reach out and touch his son, to grasp his shoulder, but he didn't dare. 

“I will go north, as you suggested before.” Legolas looked into Thranduil’s eyes again to see the not so hidden anguish and to see more father than king. In centuries he had seen less emotion from him than he had seen in these weeks prior since the dwarves first crossed the borders of their forest. It was unsettling and for a moment he questioned his resolve. Still, he knew his time here was over and he had more to do than remain merely prince of this corner of the world.

Legolas bowed his head and turned to go.

“Legolas!” Thranduil called out to him, his hand momentarily raised as if to grasp at his arm and bid him stay. " _ Nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu vilya… _ ” He placed his hand on his heart.

Legolas paused for a moment, weighing his words. He chose a different path from his father as he spoke. “ _ Gerich veleth nîn, ada _ .”

He followed his father’s motion, bowing his head, his hand on his heart. He looked into his father’s eyes one last time to see tears and regret before turning to leave Mirkwood. He imagined it would be a very long time before he returned.

Thranduil hung his head and willed back the tears that had begun to form. He climbed the curved steps to his throne and sat, cold and feeling almost too much as if the last bits of love left within him were being torn to shreds. He shut it away deep within him and vowed to keep it buried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu vilya…” (May the Valar guard and protect you upon your path under the sky.)
> 
> “Gerich veleth nîn, ada.” (You have my love father.)


	7. Beyond Arda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of you are anxiously awaiting news of the dwarves and what is happening in Erebor!! We will likely be seeing them soon in the very next chapter. But first.......

They watched and they waited. It was not an often occurrence that they stood over their creations, but in great and dire times their heads turned to Middle Earth. They felt each blow that fell upon their children, sending them to their Halls before their time as the battle raged. Aulë paced and sighed, his love for creation injured by each destruction. It didn’t matter how many fights, skirmishes, or wars he saw. He felt the loss of each dwarf as if it were the first, always reminding him of the moment he made to destroy them before they pleaded and Ilúvatar let them wake after his elves.

Ilúvatar raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I am not immune to their strife, but how have you still not quieted at knowing this always happens?”

“I dislike watching creations die. Is that wrong?”

“Children are stubborn.”

“Mine in particular I think you might say.”

Ilúvatar laughed. “How do your Durins fare?”

Aulë watched and tried to ignore the death on the battlefield. At least with each dwarf that fell, many more orc and foul beasts were destroyed. “It seems they’ve separated from the field.”

“Oh?” Ilúvatar’s interest piqued, he wandered over to stand beside Aulë and watch the exiled king fight his way to the top of Ravenhill with his kin. Below them, elves and dwarves fought together.

“At least they have finally come together against a common enemy.”

“Aulë, I told you once long long ago that strife would often arise between elves and dwarves. Your creation was outside of the Music. The differences between our children can forge great friendships or bitter rivalries. We have seen both but always in the least likely.”

They watched as the elves made for retreat and Ilúvatar sighed. “the most stubborn of mine, but I cannot blame him for all the blood shed.”

“Who is that?” Aulë pointed to the flame red haired elf confronting her king. “There is something faintly familiar about her.”

“We have heard her whisperings to us before.”

“No. She reminds me of someone from ages long past.” He thought hard on his creations and their wanderings through the ages of Arda, but could not place where this creature had come from. He returned his attention to Middle Earth as Ilúvatar placed a hand upon his shoulder. When Fíli was thrown from the ledge, Aulë shook his head and shuddered. As Thorin lay upon the ice, battling to hold Azog’s blade away from him, he held his breath. He shut his eyes in terror as the blade pierced the near king under the mountain. He turned in dread to the youngest of the line of his first child and last of the line from Thror. He wept as Kíli fell from Bolg’s grasp.

“This cannot be.”

Ilúvatar did not speak as Aulë wept for the loss of the youngest and near to last remaining family of his first born Durin. Aulë had wandered away in grief, but Ilúvatar watched curiously as the redhaired elf battle her way back up the jagged cliffside to fall over the dwarf.

“Well then…”

Aulë came back, tears streaking his face and questioning the Allfather. “What do you see?”

“Your stubborn one seems to have swayed one of the elves. The one you think familiar grieves for him. Even the Elvenking is moved.”

They heard her cries as she pleaded for his life and wept at the loss. Expanded before them was time and all of Arda, possibility and future in an undulating turning globe. Ilúvatar looked to Aulë, a thought of all that was to come flickering across his mind, and bade him tend his fallen.

“Can we not help them at all? It is such a waste. There is so little love in the world now, I would like to see some good come of this.” Aulë shook his head in sorrow and left for his halls to greet and care for those of his children that had fallen in battle, dreading meeting his three sons of Durin.

Ilúvatar remained where he was, observing all that was and would be. There was great darkness still to come, but there may be some little he would do to change the course of Arda and to relieve some of the suffering of one of his greater Valar. He had seen this before and knew he would see this again. He saw the change that had come over his elves and the dwarves that surrounded the unique elf and decided that he had long let his creations fend for themselves. The littlest of influence would change the course of so many fates but he foresaw the darkness that would fall on more than those who grieved if his hands remained idle. Aulë always had managed to sway him with his passion.

He heard the elf whisper that she would go with her fallen dwarf to the end. “And that you shall, child.”

As she kissed him on the icy ground, Ilúvatar let pass what part of her fëa would spare the dwarf’s life and give her that which she wished - a life that would go with him until their end. In Ilúvatar’s hands, her fëa moved into Kíli to halt seeping of mortality from the sword’s fatal blow moments before and lend him her ability to heal. She did not know that while she wept, her prayers had been answered before she had even whispered them. Ilúvatar smiled as he saw life hold to the dwarf, given willingly by the most unlikely of allies. What Aulë did not recall, Ilúvatar did. He was always surprised when the alliance of these races formed in such ways, although this was only the second time an alliance of elf and dwarf had gone beyond friendship. He knew great friendships between the races were still to come, and that this might influence the forging of those bonds.

He waved his hand to clear some of the shadow from that section of Middle Earth, knowing the worst was over for a time and hoping to speed the recovery of his children’s kingdoms. He smiled to himself before he turned at Aulë’s return.

“Have you settled them to their tasks?”

“Yes, but…” Aulë was confused but did not want to question his own maker. “I expected to see all of Durin’s sons. One was missing. Even his kin seemed to feel his absence.”

“Indeed.” Ilúvatar indicated to where Arda spread out before them and the congregation of dwarves and elves on Ravenhill.

Aulë moved forward and thanked his maker with all his heart. “He lives!”

“They have not discovered it yet. He will sleep for now. I think you will not interfere further?”

Aulë now felt tears of joy gather at the returning hope that all he had wanted for his creation would not falter, and the hope that their creations might find some peace between each other.

Ilúvatar touched Aulë’s shoulder and left him to watch his last Durin be carried from the battlefield. He sighed in relief and as he heard his children call to him, he left to attend once more those that joined him in the Halls of Waiting.


	8. Durin's Son

They slowly made their way back into the mountain from the battlefield in silence, each reliving their own portion of battle and fearing what would come next. Bilbo was practically inconsolable and could not be taken from Thorin’s side, but none of the dwarves, even Dwalin, could bring themselves to try. They all felt the loss as a wound upon their own hearts.

The company carried their dead into the mountain, many with tears streaming down their face. The halls of Erebor were still quiet and empty, Dain and his armies still clearing the battlefield, so they were at least granted privacy in their grief for now. All would mourn the loss of the exiled king under the mountain, but none more than his own company and closest kin.

The three were laid with great care onto soft beds in a healing chamber as if they might feel any jostling movement that could increase ache or pain. At first they all stood silent and staring, lost in their own memories of their kin. All had willingly followed Thorin on this quest, had leapt into battle with the knowledge that some or none might come back. And yet, in their hearts none had expected that their powerful and strong leader would fall. It was beyond comprehension.

Bilbo’s quiet weeping became more pronounced and broke them from their thoughts. Óin was the first to step forward, his attention first upon his king. He searched Thorin’s body for wounds and guided others to help clean and redress him. This he did for Fíli as well, caring for wounds even though they no longer bothered the dead. He had just moved to Kíli when he grumbled and cursed at himself across the room from the others.

Most ignored him in their focused attention on the task at hand, but Bofur went to pat him on the shoulder. For all they'd witnessed none could believe the loss of all three. Bofur assumed the dwarf was cursing in anger and pity.

“Tell me I'm not hearing things.”

Bofur tweaked an eyebrow and sighed. If the moment hadn't been so somber he might have laughed. Óin, hearing things? That would be the day.

First he placed his ear to Kíli's chest as Óin indicated. For a moment he wasn't sure what he heard, so he took the trumpet when offered. His face contorted in disbelief he looked back to Óin.

“I don't believe it.”

Óin grunted and took back his trumpet, raising it to his ear. The dwarf shook his head and leaned close to the archer, placing the device to Kíli’s chest. “Is faint and strange, aye. But it's there. How have his miracles not run out?”

Bofur began to cry. He knew he was right. It was faint but plain as day. Shallow and quiet breath filling and leaving the lungs, and an unusually slow but deliberate heart beat. Bofur tossed his hat in the air and cheered, to the great dismay of everyone else in the quiet chamber.

“Have some bloody respect!” Dwalin boomed in rage.

“He’s alive!!”

Everyone froze. When Bofur exclaimed again that Kíli lived, the eight that had been tending their fallen leader and Fíli ran into each other trying to clamor closer to see if it was true. Óin took the sword that lay by Kíli and held the blade close to his nose and mouth. The company seemed to gasp together as a light fog formed on the steel, and they all seemed to begin shouting together, calling out his name and trying to get closer to him.

“Oy!!! Get back, you lot!” Balin stepped forward to try and gain some sense of the situation. “Come on now, lads. This can’t be. We saw how he was run through.”

Óin brought Balin forward to listen for himself. “Mahal’s beard, I can’t believe it but it’s true. Doesn’t sound right… but his heart beats slow and steady.”

The dwarves all looked to each other in disbelief before their eyes fell back to Kíli. They all prayed to Mahal as they watched and they waited.

 

*** *** ***

 

Mahal heard them in the back of his mind, but he was preoccupied with the dwarf in front of him. He watched quietly as the dwarf let sand fall through his fingers in silence and confusion. He was patient and let the young one get his bearings, looking from the sand in his palm to out over the water and into the distance at the looming peak to the north.

“I thought I’d be with my brother by now. But I just keep finding myself here, stuck at the water’s edge. I feel like I’ve been standing here for forever.”

Kíli turned around and faced the immense figure before him holding the largest hammer he’d ever seen. Its only rival he could think of was that of the statue they’d destroyed in an attempt to kill Smaug.

“You are not done yet, dear child.”

“But how can that be if my brother has left? And why am I still on this shore?”

Mahal smiled and kneeled down to him, so fond of his creation and contemplating how best to ease his confusion so that he might make the most of this chance he was being given. He asked Kíli if he recognized this shoreline and at first the dwarf shook his head. Mahal gave deeper thought to the landscape as the treeline formed more clearly before them and in the distance on the water, the outline of Laketown could just be seen.

“You gave a promise that you must keep.”

Kíli felt his heart stutter at even the thought of the elf that had made him lose all reason and sense. “Tauriel…” he whispered as if lost in the memory of that day. “I had begun to lose hope that I might see her again once we arrived at the mountain, and then after Fíli… after, I didn’t think or care for anything but vengeance. But then she was there. She was at the battle. I heard her calling for me. But… She… is she alive? Oh Mahal, please tell me it wasn’t for nothing.”

“Be calm. As I told you, you are not done yet. I cannot answer everything, nor can I linger long with you. So, before I go, tell me what you see in the lake?”

The waters were not the undulating tide that had swept the shore after Smaug’s burning of the lake, but still as glass. Kíli stepped close to the water and looked into the deep, seeing at first nothing but his own reflection. Before he went to turn away, the shimmering silver of seven stars appeared above his shadow as if reflecting the stars above. He stole a moment to look up to the sky and found himself again confused at the clouded daylight around him. Mahal was then beside him.

“I know what it looks like, but this is not Kheled-zâram… I don’t understand.”

“You are not wrong. You have a larger role to play in what is yet to come and those that follow you may once again wear a crown of stars from waters deep.”

Kíli looked again to the seemingly reflected stars that lingered above his head in the constellation he’d had to memorize and know all his life as one of Durin’s Folk. He was mesmerized, but knew he was far from the ruler they might signify.

Mahal spoke softly to him and a soothing wave of understanding swept over Kíli’s mind. “Remember that no prayer is unheard. There is much you must discover for yourself, but you will remember that the path you now lead began on this shore. I cannot tell you that it will be easy, but you cannot stay here any longer. You have lingered and waited long enough. Now, you must keep your promise.”

As Kíli felt overwhelming gratefulness he was momentarily reminded that keeping his promise meant leaving behind his brother. Before he could speak, Mahal was gone and the world around him began to fade to darkness. But the darkness was then filled with endless stars that stretched out into forever. A tear fell from his eye as he remembered what an elf once told him of the light of the stars.


	9. Night Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mondays. Aren't they awful? Here's a chapter to hopefully make it better. :)

It had been weeks. Bofur could not stop wringing his hat in his hands, watching as Óin moved to the bed where Kíli laid. He sighed when Óin indicated no change. Of all the dwarves, Óin and Bofur spent the most time with the youngest of their company. He remembered so clearly the day they brought the king and his sister sons back into the mountain for what they all thought was the final time. Realizing that Kíli clung desperately to the edge of life had shaken them and left the company in an unending state of anxious anticipation.

There hadn’t been much to do for him but monitor his lungs and heart. The wound on his chest, though appearing deep and grave, was surprisingly clean and needed little tending. On that first day, it had needed the most attention. They had carefully cut away the clothing covering and around the wound before applying a dressing with one of Óin’s homemade ointments and sealing the wound. The dressing was changed regularly even though the wound had oddly stopped bleeding well before they discovered Kili’s condition. They hoped it might ease his breathing and increase his heart rate to normal, but no change had come. They spoke to him telling stories and jokes, gently eased water into his mouth, and kept an eye on him through the night.

Óin and Bofur had only abandoned their charge twice and only on the condition that someone remained with Kili. They had stepped away to join the rest of their company as they led a large procession of mourners to view their fallen king and prince. Not all the dwarves or Bilbo could contain their tears and disbelief as they walked to where their comrades lay.

Thorin had not been laid in splendor of gold or kingly robes. He rested upon the tomb in his eternal repose dressed in the garb that he wore in his final battle, that in which he had won back Erebor. The Arkenstone shone in his hands and Orcrist lay at his side. Forever he would be entombed as Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the leader of his company who took back his kingdom and died to protect and keep it.

Fíli had been placed just as carefully on his tomb, his sword laid upon him and held in his grasp. Both uncle and nephew had been cleaned, redressed, and postured with great care. For the last two weeks, Dwalin had stood guard over Thorin during every step and through all processions as dwarves came to mourn and pay respects. He felt that he had failed in every duty, so he would carry out his protection even in his king and friend’s death. 

Most felt a warring of shame for failing their purpose and not knowing what was next, but Dwalin perhaps more than the rest. He had tried to reach Thorin but was waylaid by so many fell creatures to hack through. They’d slowed his progress and he couldn’t help thinking of how he might have changed their fate if he’d have been there. When he was not standing guard for Thorin and Fíli, he was impatiently pacing outside Kíli’s healing room or brooding in his brother’s company.

Dain had taken the mantle of King and postponed official ceremonies and feasts in order to make a hasty though temporary return to the Iron Hills. None of the ten dwarves or Bilbo argued the point as no one knew what the future held for Kili. Whether he would wake or not was yet to be seen, and even less known was how changed he might be after such a destructive blow. If he ever regained consciousness, would he be fit to rule? Would his body or mind survive the trauma intact? Even though the wound to his chest had mostly closed, it was not fully healed and there was no telling what other damage was yet to be seen.

Just that morning, Bofur would have sworn that he’d heard Kíli’s heart stutter even in its slowed state moments before a tear fell from his closed eyes. He called to him, touched his shoulder and gripped his hand, but got no response. His coloring was still so pale. 

The rest of the morning had been uneventful. When Óin came to take over, Bofur decided he needed air. He loved nothing more than being within the mountain, but after so long enjoying the outdoors on their journey, he admitted only to himself he wouldn’t mind a more frequent exposure to the cold fresh air. He thought maybe he would take over a watch on the wall or at the gates before returning to the healing room.

As he made his way through the halls of the mountain, passing where they were repairing the rooms that would be for the king of Erebor had his thoughts turning once again to their fallen friends and the uncertainty of Kíli’s fate. He hoped that those rooms might be home to Kíli sooner rather than later. Mahal forbid he never wake to see them at all. Heading up the main corridor to the grand entrance, he wiped the tears from his cheeks and shook himself steady as he replaced his hat upon his head.

Relieving the dwarf at the gate, Bofur swung his scarf once more around his neck and hefted his mattock to rest upon his shoulder. Breathing deep he looked out across the open field towards the south. With the destruction of the town on the Long Lake, Dale was being rebuilt under Bard’s guidance. Some lights from the city now broke through the darkness and burned until dawn. Men and dwarves were not so different, he thought, that they would both be working through day and night to rebuild their homes. 

He thought back to the last time he stood watch over the gate. It was closing in on midnight and just as cold and windy then as it was now. He’d been warming his hands over a brazier and watching the elves move archers into position when Bilbo came upon him. The hobbit had thought Bofur didn’t know he’d been attempting to sneak out unnoticed and was surprised to be caught in the act. He couldn’t blame Bilbo for wanting to be elsewhere. He’d left the wall to wake Bombur for his watch, believing that was the last he’d see of the hobbit. Surely, he had thought at the time, the fight would not last long and none would see the end of it.

None of them should have been willing to fight the elves or anyone over gems in that treasure horde in the first place. Granted, his own opinion of elves had swayed a bit in their favor after witnessing one of them heal Kíli and then weep over him to the point of collapse. That was something he didn’t quite understand but didn’t question. He’d liked her and hoped she’d fare well against the wrath of that snobby stuck up king of hers.

Lost in thought and memories, he thought he might take a small wander from the gate to see if he could find any unruly sprouts of kingsfoil to bring back to Óin. Before he could really entertain the idea, movement from the south caught his eye. He swung his mattock off his shoulder and squinted, waiting in stillness until the horse and rider came clearer to his sight.

“By Mahal’s beard…”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he lowered his weapon and waited for their approach. A few moments later, her cloak fell back from her head as she dismounted, revealing her long flaming hair. She approached the large gate on foot, her horse following without bidding. He shouted greetings from the ramparts.

“And just what brings one of the fine eldar folk to our humble mountain nigh on midnight?”

“Mae govannen, master dwarf.” 

Though a smile seemed to form at her lips, the shadows of sorrow in her eyes was one he knew all too well. Quick and nimble, Bofur came down the steps to her.  
“Lady Tauriel,” he said as found himself removing his hat and bowing to the tall elf before him. “You are very welcome to Erebor.”

He took a moment to be impressed by the manning of the city from Dain’s men that had stayed behind as a young dwarf ran up to take care of the horse, even though he seemed unsure of its rider. Since Bofur had greeted her with welcome though, the younger one didn’t question and jogged off with her horse in tow. 

“To what do we owe your visit?”

“I have something of Kíli’s to return.”

It couldn’t be anything substantial as he could see only what she wore and carried on her person. Her daggers, bow and arrows were on her and little else. Even if small, it had to be important to bring her to their gates now. Before he could ask what it might be, the sound of heavy running footsteps coming from within the mountain, stiffening both their spines. A moment later Bombur appeared, impressively large, wide-eyed and a bit out of breath. Bombur put his hands on his knees and breathed heavily while Bofur and Tauriel looked on in confusion. When he finally straightened and spoke, they shared a brief glance at each other before Bombur turned and ran back from whence he’d came. Bofur was hot on his heels and dragging Tauriel by the hand in stunned confusion behind him.

“He’s awake!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translations:
> 
> "Mae govannen" - Well met.


	10. A Waking Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since today we are honoring those soldiers that could not return to us, I hope I can provide a little joy with the return of one particular dwarf. Thank you so much to all who have left kudos and followed this story! And thank you for the comments and encouragement! It means a lot! <3 Enjoy! I know it's a bit of a short chapter, but there will be longer ones to follow :)

The cavernous space within the mountain seemed as though it would go on forever. It was easy enough to keep up with Bombur and Bofur, but not as easy to get my bearings in the labyrinth of stone corridors. I was a bit surprised at my ability to maintain running as I’d gotten so easily winded only days before and even had to stop more than usual on my ride to the mountain. I had tried to ride nonstop since I left Mirkwood, worried that I might be stopped at any moment by one of Thranduil’s guard. But the woods had been quiet and my path clear to Erebor’s gate, my exhaustion only diminishing the further I left the dark wood behind me.

It was as though leaving the ill of the forest lightened my heart and renewed my spirit. I was grateful for it with what I would have to face upon seeing Kíli’s tomb. Although pieces of my memory remained dark in my mind, the pull towards him and the loss had begun to overtake me once more. Since Thranduil had returned the runestone to me, I held it close and pieces had slowly returned each time I ran my fingers across it. I longed to hold on to it but the heartache that it brought would steal my breath.

A part of me was frustrated at this interruption to my purpose. Once I had laid Kíli’s runestone to rest with his body, I had every intention of seeking solitude on my journey west to Mithlond. Long had I heard that Círdan ferried the elves to Valinor, and I hoped to go to the undying lands in search of Kíli. Though it seemed unlikely I would find him there in the separate halls of our creators, it was the last hope I had. I knew nothing else would keep me tethered long to this world as the pieces of memory that held my connection to Kíli became clearer.

As we approached a chamber at the end of a hallway deep in the mountain, the noise level had risen steadily. It sounded like a great brawl or party with so many raised voices, until one booming voice had them all silenced. Bombur had stopped to gather himself again just outside the door and Bofur looked back at me with wide eyes as if I held the answers. There was no indication of what type of chamber or hall we had come to. I looked back at him curiously, brows drawn and questioning. A great amount of grumbling had slowly replaced the yelling as dwarf after dwarf filed out of the room. None of the dwarves even noticed my presence because they were looking at their shoes as if chastised by an angry parent. At this point I could not help but ask why he had brought me here.

“Master Bofur,” I whispered, careful not to intrude or draw attention for fear that I shouldn’t be there. “What’s going on? Why are we here?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I came to return something that belongs here… that should be buried with Kíli.”

“But, lass…”

Just then, a voice beckoned from inside the chamber calling for Bofur. He looked at me long, I supposed hoping to see that I was playing him for a fool and knew the mystery all along. His eyes softened when it dawned on him that I truly had no idea what he was talking about or what was going on. He shook his head and quirked a half smile at me.

“Come on then.”

He took my hand again and led me into the room where Óin was leaning over someone, his hearing trumpet pressed to their chest. Did they need me to help heal, having seen how I helped Kíli before? Perhaps the excitement was merely at my opportunely timed arrival. Bofur let go of my hand and stepped closer with a grin spreading on his face, his dimples forming craters in his cheeks.

“By all of Mahal’s creations, I can’t believe it!!”

Óin hushed him, “I’ve already had to kick the rest out for all their guffawing, don’t make me boot you as well!”

When Óin stood upright and turned to grumble at Bofur, he caught sight of me at the precise moment I saw who his patient was.

“Oh,” was all that he said as I stood motionless and feeling yet again that I had lost all breath and blood from my body. 

My eyes could not believe what I saw and all words escaped me but one. “...Kíli?”

His eyelids fluttered open as his head turned towards me. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on me. A grin spread across his face, one I thought I’d never see again. But as quickly as it had come upon his face, it was replaced by overwhelming sadness. He groaned and shut his eyes again, wincing in pain as he grabbed at his head.

“I cannot TAKE this! Mahal let me wake or die before I dream any more!”

I moved forward, Bombur and Óin moving aside to let me closer. They’d been there in Laketown and helped hold Kíli so that I might heal his leg and the poison that had threatened to take him. I had no fear of repercussions from them as I might have from any others. Careful not to disturb the bed with my movement, I sat gently beside him on the edge of the mattress and spoke his name again in disbelief.

“Tauriel, I’m so sorry. I can’t keep my promise. I failed you.”

I grasped his hand tightly in mine and placed it to my cheek. The warmth in his body was no trick this time and burned hot against me. I shuddered in relief in knowing that I was not dreaming myself. I closed my eyes for a moment and thanked the Valar for such a gift as the warmth of his skin and the life in his body.

He was breathing heavily and harshly as if in pain, but I could not see any wounds for the blankets that lay over him. Not knowing what state he was in, I trembled at the idea that I might have to face watching him die after everything. My memory still shadowed, I refused to think of how broken he might be after what Legolas told me had happened at Ravenhill. How could he be alive!?

“Open your eyes. This is no dream.”

“It is! I am forever haunted on Mahal’s forsaken shore without my brother!” He cried out. “And she… She is far from me. She is a world away and I have left her behind.” Tears began to fall from his eyes and I felt my own begin to fill.

“No, Kíli. I am here.”

Whether he understood or not, I drew again on my spirit and spoke to him in my own tongue. I understood all too well the desire to retreat and succumb to the darkness.

“Ú-erich o nin gwanno. Tellin men achae.” I begged him. “Kíli, look at me meleth nîn.”

He took a deep and shuddering breath and opened his eyes once more to look at me, lost in what he had thought an illusion. “I don’t know what that means.”

I laughed as tears now fell freely from my eyes. “It is my turn now to say that I think you do.”

His eyebrows slowly rose in hope and a tentative smile began to creep upon his lips as he whispered my name, “Tauriel. Am I truly awake?”

“Yes, Kíli.” I smiled and he brought his hand within mine back towards him. He changed grips and pressed my hand to his cheek as I had his, closing his eyes for a moment before kissing my palm.

As though that missing center might finally be mending, I sobbed in grateful relief as his arms quickly surged around me and pulled me down against him in a crushing embrace. I wrapped my arms around him carefully as I buried my head against his neck and shoulder. I held on tightly and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ú-erich o nin gwanno. Tellin men achae." - You cannot leave me. We have come too far.  
> "Meleth nîn." - My love


	11. The Pulse of Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story and has commented and left kudos! The encouragement means a lot to me! And thank you to all the new readers and subscribers too!

Endless green forest stretched out below as the shimmer and shine of the stars filled the air around me. Hanging high in the sky was a fire moon, pouring warm gold and red light into the night. There was a warm hand in mine, and I turned to see the smile that filled my heart with joy and stopped my breath. Kíli kissed the palm of my hand and led me out into a world of starlight.

I heard a soft and gentle murmuring around us as the white light dimmed and faded. Slowly I began to realize I had fallen deeply asleep, not something I was oft to do unless from healing or extreme fatigue. As I became more aware of my surroundings, I could make out more of what the dwarves in the room were discussing in the opposite corner.

“We let ‘em alone while they slept -”

“You left them alone. Didn’t give me much of a say, did you?”

“I think we can leave ‘em alone another moment for our breakfast!” I recognized Bofur’s lyrical voice easily.

“But look at the two of ‘em! ‘Tis not right, and she’ll crush ‘im! Healing him’s one thing, but... It’s just unnatural if you ask me.” If I had to guess it was Óin responding as he seemed to have been hovering over Kíli when I arrived and until we had fallen asleep.

“Pretty sure he weighs more than she does! He hasn’t breathed this easy from day one until she arrived. He didn’t even wake until she got here! So she ain’t hurting him. Let ‘em be a bit longer. Besides… maybe I can learn how to lure a she-elf into my bed.” I tried not to laugh, simultaneously thankful to know that Kíli was not the only dwarf that might bear me kindness.

There was a large grumble and sigh but no conversation resumed as I heard the two dwarves’ heavy footfalls leave the room and the door click shut behind them. As I focused and forgot the conversation, I instantly took stock of my position and surroundings. I realized that I still lay on the bed beside Kíli but not quite as I last remembered. I didn’t dare move as I opened my eyes to find his closed as he slept peacefully, his face a whisper of a breath from mine, our foreheads practically touching.

My body was warmer than I had ever felt and I knew it must be due to the furnace of a dwarf that lay wrapped around me. His arms were tightly wound around my torso while one of my arms was tucked against his chest and the other rested on his shoulder, my fingers tangled in his hair. Our legs seemed to be twined together. I had no memory of falling asleep, let alone us entangling ourselves so greatly. I wished secretly to myself that this is how I might wake every morning.

Hoping not to wake him, I laid quietly in his arms and watched his breath with the rise and fall of his chest against my hand. My hand that lay between us could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beat. It seemed to thrum easily and strong. How could he have been pierced there if it beat so strong and full of life? I wanted to inspect the site of the wound, but knew the time would come and it was likely some of my healing skills would be requested. Gently, I ran my fingers through his hair and brushed a stray strand from his face and watched him smile ever so slightly as he dreamt. I watched him for what felt like hours as time stretched out in his arms.

Listening closely, I could almost hear the rhythm of his heart and let it lull me to the edges of sleep again. As my eyes grew heavy and closed, I felt myself begin to drift back towards the star speckled darkness I had wandered before. It felt like I was reaching out to take his hand. Just as I slipped further towards dreams, I felt him stir against me, his hands and arms pulling me closer. One of his hands moved up along my back and into my hair. I kept my eyes closed even as a shimmering wave of warmth spread through me. He held me tightly, his nose brushing against mine and I heard him whisper to me, “ _Amrâlimê_.”

I breathed deep, the scent of him filling my nose, and opened my eyes to find him smiling at me.

“You’re still here,” he said.

“As are you.” I smiled and tried to begin extricating myself from our entwined embrace. He was having none of it, and kept me where I was with his strong arms.

“I wasn’t sure you were really here.”

“Neither was I. I thought you dead.”

“I think I was. For a while.” His smile faltered and a deep frown crossed his face before being replaced by wistful contemplation. “My brother is gone.” He closed his suddenly filling eyes and I wished I could take away his pain and loss.

“I am so sorry, Kíli.”

“We thought we’d always be together.”

“Is it selfish that I am glad you did not join him?” I touched his cheek and the frown slowly faded.

A sparkle came into his eyes as he looked at me again. I felt heat rising to my face as his fingers continued to play with my hair just behind my ear as he moved impossibly closer to me until I felt his breath on my face. The most painfully beautiful ache spread through my chest at even the thought that our lips would meet, and I looked forward to the sweet oblivion.

At first soft and warm with the lightest touch of a feather, his lips brushed against mine as the ache in my chest sent a wave of yearning through me. The warmth and softness of his touch as our breaths mingled had my eyes closing. My heart fluttered in my chest even as I felt a pull of longing in my belly.

In an instant, the kiss deepened and he gripped my body tight against him, his hand fisting in my hair, and our lips melded like molten fire, hungry and needy for more. I found myself clinging to him as though I would drown without him as my lifeline. The light of stars would never blind me so much as the heat of the sun that Kíli was to me. As a moan escaped my throat he pulled away.

My lips felt full and heavy, tingling from where his tongue and teeth had grazed. My whole body felt weighted against him and it took me a moment to regain my breath. I felt nearly dizzy and flushed in my face as I looked into his eyes and he grinned. I had not in over 600 years felt this kind of need or desire before, or this odd drowsy heaviness in my body. My fingers brushed through his hair and I began to move my mouth to his again, but before I could pull him back to me, I heard what Kíli did not. The faintest of taps beat on the door before it began to open.

I knew my cheeks to be as scarlet as a sunset for the heat I felt creeping up my neck and face. Somewhat unceremoniously, I disentangled myself from Kíli and stood at attention beside his bed with one hand resting on the hilt of a blade on my hip. I fought to turn off my instinct to fight or defend. For whatever reprieve I had been given to be allowed to see him and more so, sleep there, I did not want to overstep or outstay the welcome by pushing the comfort or hospitality of the dwarves.

Bofur’s head peaked around the door and a sly grin spread to flash his dimples as he entered the room. “I shoulda known…” He shook his head.

Within an instant, I was at first alarmed when I heard loud coughing come from Kíli and turned quickly to his aid. Quickly I realized the cause was poorly contained laughter. I looked between him and Bofur as the joke was somewhat lost on me. I masked my confusion with feigned indifference and waited until the chuckling had finally died down shortly before Óin entered.

He grunted and squinted at me as I stood, but he bowed his head a bit before going to a corner table to fuss with some of his bottles of herbs and ointments. Though Óin was still a bit unsure of me, I knew he was in wonder of the healing I had done in Laketown and he ultimately respected me enough to not be too offended by my presence. If my being in the mountain was to be as such, I didn’t think it would be too much a hardship. I regretted the thought just as quickly, when 8 dwarves piled into the room led by the furious face of Dwalin.

“What in Mahal’s name is _she_ doing here?!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you hate me and my cliffhangers yet? I'm sorry I can't resist such perfect break points!!! I'll behave more in the future. Maybe... ;)


	12. Meeting Resistance

Dwalin glared furiously, leaving very little room in the chamber for the other 10 dwarves and myself alongside his anger. If not for my exhaustion I might have stood toe to toe with him, but I was only just beginning to feel recovered since the night before.

Kíli tried to sit up straight and coughed, alarming me to move towards him as he spoke. “I want her here.”

“That doesn’t explain her showing up like she has! Be quiet, laddie. Who let her into the mountain?”

“I did.” Bofur stepped toward Dwalin. I'd not seen him in the battle or ever being domineering towards his fellow dwarves. He usually blended in and was observing or joking as the center of attention. But now he seemed a formidable opponent as he raised a brow at the bald tattooed dwarf.

“She’s with that insulting blond pointy eared bastard that caged us!” Glóin had turned red just thinking of the blond elf that had insulted his family.

Most of the company stood back quietly muttering to themselves and each other, watching the curious display of an elf standing in a guarded position over their leader’s nephew and one of their own standing between her and their fiercest warrior.

As the noise volume steadily rose, I found myself barely hearing the sound for the loud beating of my heart in my ears. Though I stood there watching the dwarves argue over what might have brought me there and what decisions might be made about my fate in their mountain, I felt a brush of skin along my finger tips as Kíli’s fingers intertwined with mine. He grasped my hand strongly, and I felt as though the bond we had barely begun to forge before we had been separated would not so easily break now that we had found each other again.

The white haired dwarf whose face had flitted across my memory, but I failed to recall from Ravenhill spoke up. “Listen lads. We all know she helped keep the scum off our backs at the river…”

“So she could return us to her dungeons, Balin!” Glóin boomed.

Balin ignored him with a dismissive look. “We also know the lass saved him in Laketown or he wouldn't have ever seen home again.”

There was a great amount of grumbling as not everyone believed what they had heard, having not witnessed any healing miracles themselves. Bofur was known to spin a few yarns and who knew what Oin heard or saw half the time.

Balin tried to calm the room. “I'm not to believe she's got any ill plans for the young one.”

Kili seemed disgruntled at being called the young one. “Oy, I'm right here you know.”

“Aye. Run through, and weak as a babe.”

Kili turned bright red and seemed like he might spit venom, but another coughing fit took over.

Dwalin continued to glare and eye me suspiciously. “Is not right to have this… she-elf here. Dain will have to decide.”

“Brother, you know as well as I that he's gone back to the hills to bring back supplies and more folk to protect the mountain.”

“Then until he returns, she'll go to the dungeon.” Dwalin pulled a set of shackles off his large and well equipped belt.

“Now just wait a minute!” Kili tried to argue, fighting to control the rattling cough that threatened. "I am not a child! I fought as hard as you all. As did she! She can stay here with me as long as she likes."

He tried to sit up and stand to show he could fight on my behalf, but was too weak and breathless. 

“She's got you all worked up boy. We'll handle this.”

I turned to face Kíli and tried to smile as best I could, speaking quietly just to him. “Rest now. I will go.”

“It isn’t right, Tauriel.”

I gave his hand a squeeze before releasing him and stepping towards the angry group of dwarves. My movement seemed to put them all on edge as they appeared to prepare for me to attack. I held out my wrists for Dwalin to lead me away and looked back over my shoulder. Kíli struggled to get up but I just shook my head. I could see the fatigue in him even if he tried to mask it.

Dwalin locked the heavy metal shackles and yanked me from the room. Most of the dwarves accompanied in marching me to the dungeons including Glóin holding his axe and keeping his eyes on me. Bofur walked beside me with a permanent look of apology on his face and I was glad to have him with me as I wasn’t sure what fate lay ahead. A dwarf with black hair and white beard sporting a small axe in his forehead trotted beside Dwalin with an expression I couldn’t quite make out. Three others followed behind muttering to each other quietly in what sounded like a combination of curiosity and suspicion. It seemed the most reasonable of the company had stayed behind with the healer, Kíli and Bombur.

As we walked deeper into the mountain, the temperature began to cool as we entered into darker and darker corridors. We came to a room that had treasure piled in sections of cages. Only two were empty and I realized one was to be mine. Having spent weeks kept under lock and key in Mirkwood, I did not look forward to more incarceration as was becoming too customary. I hoped desperately that my time here would be short lived and would not take the same toll with the knowledge my love was in the same mountain and living, breathing. It definitely lacked any of the comforts of Thranduil’s confinement. At least there was a make-shift cot for me to rest on more comfortably than the cold stone.

I was ushered into one of the cells and unshackled before the door was slammed and locked. I did not turn until I heard most of the dwarves leave again, though I knew someone remained. As I turned around, I was relieved to find that the dwarf that lingered had a familiar face.

“They don’t know what you did. Or don’t believe it anyway,” Bofur said apologetically.

“Do not worry yourself on my behalf. I know that I am an outsider here and after the treatment they received in our halls, I cannot begrudge them for their caution.”

Bofur grinned. “Shouldn’t I be telling you not to worry, seein as you’re the one in a cage?”

I smiled and bowed my head at him. “I have only one worry, and it is not myself.”

He nodded, understanding. “No one ‘ll let anything happen to ‘im now. And the others ‘ll see reason. I’ll be makin’ sure of that myself.”

I bowed my head to him in thanks. I watched curiously as he stepped closer, removing his hat and shaping it in his hands.

“When you got here, you said you brought something of Kíli’s. But you didn’t know he was alive?”

“No. I thought he and his brother and uncle died at Ravenhill.” The thought of it made my heart stutter at the possibility.

“How is that possible? We thought you’re the one that healed him.”

I stepped to the bars. “No, I… I tried, but I failed.”

“Maybe you didn’t.”

We both stood silent, lost in thought and trying to comprehend what may have brought us here. He packed his pipe and lit it, puffing thoughtfully. I still struggled with some of my memory, but everything that Legolas had told me was beginning to come into clearer focus. The truth of what he told me had been resonating stronger during the long ride from Mirkwood to the mountain and seemed to solidify when I stepped across the threshold into Erebor. I paced along side the bars as I tried to remember specifically what happened on that mountain top.

“I just don’t understand.”

“We can’t always know what Mahal has in store for us, lass.” He replaced his hat on his head and ran his hand over his chin and beard. “I'll bring you some breakfast. Try and get some rest.”

I stopped pacing and watched him head for the door. “Bofur?” I waited until he paused in the doorway and turned. “Your kindness is a credit not often given to dwarves. Thank you, elvellon.”

He smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself. For a pointy eared Elf-maid.”

He winked and laughed as he turned and left me to my solitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translations:
> 
> “Elvellon” - (Elf-friend)


	13. A Reckless Recovery

Kíli stood up and rolled his eyes. “I feel fine!”

“You basically came back from the dead, lad. You can’t be that fine!” Óin shoved a walking stick into Kíli’s hand. “We’ve got to build up yer strength again after being practically dead and then asleep so long. 30 minutes.”

“I can manage longer. This is ridiculous!” He refused to tell them he felt weaker each day rather than stronger.

“If you can, then we’ll see.”

In truth, the reason he wanted to be let out of bed for longer was so that he could venture down to the cell Nori told him Tauriel was being kept in. It had been more than a few days since he’d seen her. Nearly a full week, and he’d only been out of bed and walking the last couple days. Or so the rest of his company thought. 

Twice when he awoke restless in the night he had tried to make his way to the dungeons to see her. The first time he struggled to make it much further than down the hall, and the second time he had heard Glóin and Dwalin approaching around the corner and had to rush himself back to bed before being caught. He’d yet to make it down another level, let alone all the levels down to the dungeon hall.

It seemed greatly unfair that they should have been brought back together only to be separated again for no just cause. He couldn’t quite raise the strength in his voice to convince any of them to listen to reason.

When the company had all come to visit and took turns keeping him company, he had asked Nori to keep an eye out and make sure that if anything happened to her that he wanted to hear about it. He hadn’t told anyone, but in the days since they had taken her further into the mountain, his chest had begun to ache more with each passing day. In the few and far between moments where he was left to himself, he examined the wound to his chest. He could almost remember the pressure but not the pain as the end of the axe pierced his armor and body. He mostly remembered the cold coursing through him before being flung onto a sandy shore.

How he now was left with just a scar and slight discoloration where the gaping wound should have been, he wasn’t sure. He thanked Mahal every day and night that he still drew breath and had the chance to pursue a life he’d thought cut short.

He moved slowly about the room distracted, as he was thinking how much time it would take to traverse the steps down to where Nori told him Tauriel was being kept one level above the Great Hall where many had spent their time sorting and organizing the treasure horde once Smaug had vacated the mountain. He had no idea just how long it would take to get there and get back, not with how weak he still felt. It was a source of pride he tried not to let the others see just how weak he truly was. When Tauriel had been in his arms, he’d felt almost more whole and strong than before. Granted, the cough that was lingering was coming back with a vengeance and had everyone hovering and thinking he might still leave them all for the Halls of their ancestors after all.

It was infuriating. He longed for his brother at his side to make fun of him and joke and laugh with him. He would likely berate him for being so stupid as to try and help an elf in battle. Reckless. Foolish. A diatribe of words unfit for the stern dwarves of Durin’s line. He couldn’t help it. Mahal knew he’d tried most his life to fit in better, but at some point he just gave in. He was different. 

For all the grief his brother had given him over the years, the levity was often a welcome relief. Almost every moment spent on his sickbed, Kíli had wondered how he would manage to exist without that half of him. He sometimes thought he would drown in the anger and sorrow he felt for the loss of his brother and uncle, the two people who understood and forgave him his faults the most.

And when he slept, he dreamt of red hair.

Óin was busying himself with more concoctions that Kíli feared he’d have to suffer through. They stank, and Óin was insistent they’d help his cough with the fumes. Half the time he had to hold his breath or cover his nose just to avoid passing out from how rank it smelled. He didn’t want to know what ingredients the grumpy dwarf was using. 

Before allowing himself to wallow further into his reverie, he moved towards the door.

“At least let me out of this room. I have yet to see almost any of the city and I’m going mad in here!”

Óin grunted. “I’m not sure ye can handle all the stairwells and levels.”

“Shouldn’t we try and see, then? Else we’ll never know.” Kíli smiled as innocently as possible, something he did not often succeed at.

“If only to keep ye quiet!”

Kíli grinned in triumph. At least he’d get a bit fresher air and feel less like an invalid. Óin stepped beside him as they left the healing room and made their way slowly down the corridor. He glanced down one of the staired paths that he believed led to where Tauriel was being kept, but was guided the opposite direction by Óin’s hand on his elbow. They took the slope slowly and had to pause at a landing for Kíli to catch his breath. His lungs had felt a bit tighter as they moved further up the mountain.

“Y’alright son?”

“Yes. Just… needed a moment. I’m fine, I just haven’t been out of that blasted room in so long.”

“I told ye, you’re still weak. Let’s go back before the lot have my head for letting you out too soon.”

“No. Let’s keep going.”

“Not if you kill yerself! I thought you were better, but your lungs aren’t keeping up. I don’t like it.”

Not taking no for an answer, Kíli pushed forward and continued on the path. Each step felt like more weight was being tied to his ankles. His shoulders began to feel pinned down. He fought against the invisible weight and shook his head at the slight grey around his vision. He would do this. He had to if for no other reason than to be strong enough to rescue a wrongly imprisoned elf. As they reached the next landing, several of the company were coming down towards them and all broke out in cheerful greetings.

“Here’s the lazy lad! Letting us do all the dirty work rebuilding this place!” Balin smiled and continued down to hug him.

“He’s got the right idea of it!” cried Bombur.

“So you’ve been allowed out? Did you talk his ear off or something?”

“I’m pretty sure he wanted to crush his trumpet if I had said anymore about needing out of that blasted chamber!” Kíli laughed, but soon began coughing and put his hand to his chest. The scar ached.

“Right, that’s enough. I think we’ve done plenty today.” Óin stepped forward to take Kíli’s elbow and guide him back to the healing chambers.

Kíli simply shook him off and leaned against a wall. He felt a little colder than usual and watched as a few of his friends’ faces grew concerned.

“What is it?”

“You’re shaking.” Dwalin raised an eyebrow at him and eyed him up and down.

“What? No, I’m not. I’m fine.” But when he looked down he saw that the hand that held the walking stick was not at all steady. He hadn’t noticed. As he tried to raise his arm to look at his shaking palm, it felt more like trying to lift a leaden trunk.

When his vision greyed around the edges he noted that he was slumping down to his haunches on the floor. It was all rather confusing as he felt like his body wasn't quite his own, disconnected and separate. Dwalin was the first to lunge forward and take him up, throwing one of Kíli's arms around his neck and shoulder. Taking his weight, he got Kíli standing and started down the steps towards the healing hall again.

Kíli muttered, “Bunch of nonsense. Totally fine. Could take on an army of trolls and spiders.”

“Sure ya could.”

Óin followed behind them while the others had dispersed back to their tasks so as not to crowd their wounded kin at the healer’s request. Bofur was in the chamber when they returned and at first smiled as he began to accuse them of not including him on their first outing. Once he saw Kíli’s state, he moved quickly to his other side to help Dwalin get him situated on his bed.

“What’d ya do?”

The moment Kíli was laid down, he was dragged under to sleep. For all the cajoling, they couldn’t wake him and resigned themselves to watching him like a hawk. Dwalin seemed angrier than before and swore it had something to do with dark elvish magic that the redhead had done to him. Bofur tried to reason with him as best he could but realized that Dwalin might forever hold a grudge simply to stay angry at something other than himself out of feeling like a failure. 

Nothing had removed that guilt, no matter how the rest of the company tried. His grief had driven him nonstop where he was working at all hours to clear halls and rebuild, or standing guard over Kíli. It was plain as day to the company that Dwalin had decided if he couldn’t protect Thorin, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to do better for the fallen king’s nephew.

“You and I both know this is that elf’s doing!” Dwalin’s voice boomed in the small room as he paced.

“I’ve been tellin’ ya, you have it backwards.” Bofur took out his pipe and packed it thoughtfully, trying not to pay much attention to his raging friend. He didn’t think yelling back would do any good, and would rather avoid waking Kíli. Not that he’d wake if the mountain fell on him for how fast he went under.

“Never trust an elf! She may be a witch like the one I’ve heard about all these years!” Glóin chimed in and had Bofur covering his face and sighing.

“Oh, such a suspicious folk are we!”

Nori, who hadn’t spoken an opinion and preferred to listen, stood watching on the other side of the room with his brothers. Dori kept grumbling to him, but he was too focused on the main commotion and keeping an eye on Kíli. Neither brother noticed their younger, Ori, close his book and step forward.

Quietly, he tried to interject into the argument. “You know… I read something once that if an elf heals -”

“Shut up, Ori!” Echoed in the chamber as several of the company shouted at him.

“Well, but -” He was quickly cut off again when Dori snagged his cloak and tugged him back to the corner of the room.

Dwalin stopped his pacing long enough to look hard at Kíli and his ragged breathing. “Right. We’ll sort this out once and for all.”

Balin put a hand on Dwalin’s shoulder. “Brother, keep your head.”

He merely sloughed off his brother’s hand and when the stern warrior stormed out of the chamber with Glóin following quickly behind, Balin sighed and told the rest to leave him be. “He’ll go throw his axe about and get it out of his system and we’ll all be better off.”

Most of the company slipped quietly out of the room, including Nori who hoped to see what he could find out about their elven prisoner. Balin and Ori wandered slowly from the chamber in deep conversation, leaving Kíli under the watch of the two who had spent most their hours at his side.

Bofur puffed on his pipe and turned to Óin. “So. What happened?”

Óin shook his head. “I’m not right sure. We were out for more walking and he started shaking. Didn’t seem to even know it himself. Within a moment he seemed to go limp and faint.”

“I thought he’s been doing better not worse?”

“Aye, as have I. Doesn’t seem right to me, but past few days his color has been going again. I thought him past the worse, but the cough’s still as bad. He’s sleeping longer each time he shuts his eyes.”

Lines creased across Bofur’s face as he watched Kíli breathing heavy and labored.

“Likely he’s just wore himself out. I’m no fool. He wants down to the dungeon.”

“Can ye blame im?”

“You and him and the damned elves! Something wrong with the both of ya!”

Bofur laughed and drew a chair up beside Kíli’s bed to watch him through the night, while in another part of the mountain, Ori went in search of the library and any texts to support his research on the healing arts of elves.


	14. The Boiling Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just thought I'd make a little note about this chapter. As you've read so far, Dwalin's pretty unhappy with having an elf in the mountain. He's not coping very well with the loss of Thorin, Fíli, and almost Kíli and so he kind of starts to lose his control a bit. I know he's not endearing himself into anyone's hearts with his actions towards our heroine, but it all begins to resolve in the next chapter. I know this one might be rough, but I'll try to give you some TLC and fluff as soon as I can! So hang in there!!!

Time became inconsequential and all that mattered was returning to Kíli. I turned his runestone over and over in my hand, my fingers tracing the grooves. By now, I imagined I could write the runes by memory as I let myself drift in and out of awareness, having stopped keeping time after the first couple days locked in a less welcoming prison than before.

The days and weeks spent pacing by a window overlooking the main walkways within Thranduil’s halls seemed almost luxurious in comparison. The bed I had been afforded under the Elvenking’s charge was obviously better suited for my long limbs, whereas now I found myself hunched and curled on the dwarven cot meant for prisoners of their own kind. I doubted greatly they ever really expected to imprison an elf in their dungeons. Or that an elf would ever allow themselves to be detained as such. Most elves would not find themselves in such a situation. Being typical of my race was not something I had been accused of before and it seemed might never be.

I had always been too foolhardy and opinionated, never simply falling in line quite as was expected of the guard. Though it had granted me the ability to climb in rank and earned me favor with the king, it was always a source of trouble between us. His unwillingness to expend our energies beyond our borders was something I fought strongly against, never truly understanding why he sequestered us away so drastically from the world. 

Bofur, the only one of the company who spent any time with me, imparted only bits and pieces of what might have passed between Thranduil and Thorin’s grandfather. How much was embellishment, I did not know. But nor did he as he said he hadn’t been there himself to witness what came to pass, and Thorin was permanently bitter towards the king for a great many reasons.

Dwarves were in and out of the cavernous hall that held the bulk of the treasure horde Smaug had long guarded. Only Bofur came to visit me regularly and keep me company, though occasionally one dwarf with a rather bowlish haircut took over the duty of bringing me food. I could hear others sorting through the mounds of gold and jewels, organizing and carting them away to where I assumed they were rebuilding workshops.

When all was quiet and I was alone, I occupied myself with recalling what I could of my time during the battle. Trying to visualize all that Legolas had told me helped anchor my mind as I tried to fill in what blanks were left.

As though I were back at Ravenhill, I could smell iron, dirt, and the stink of orc. The clash of steel rang in my ears. There were white flurries of snow in the air. I saw Kíli wrestling with the large orc as I felt my breath explode out of me. It was like being a part of the scene as it unfolded before me, and still watching from the sidelines. I clung to the knowledge that Kíli was alive and resting in the same mountain as I was once again tossed from the orc’s shoulders and Kíli faltered. I froze in disbelief as I watched Bolg pierce his chest. Seeing it again in my mind stole the air from my lungs and my concentration broke as I felt myself swing Bolg and myself over the cliff. 

“Oh Iluvatar…” I gasped. My eyes filled as I pressed the heel of my hand between my breasts and leaned over between my knees to catch my breath. The pain that had ripped me apart that day felt so fresh and new in that instant of memory. After so much time spent angry with my former king, I finally understood what Legolas had told me he did. It had made so little sense in the beginning of why Thranduil would have denied me the memory of realizing my love for a reckless dwarf. It had seemed his own prejudice was interfering, but now I knew otherwise.

Now I knew that in many ways I owed my life to Thranduil. Had this knowledge, this overwhelming loss not been kept from me, not only would I have suffered the physical wounds from battle but I would never have held on to life. Knowing that Kíli was nearby helped to clear the worst of the ache in my chest even though it lingered as it had before I saw him with my own eyes.

I stood to stretch and tried to draw upon less painful images and memories. It seemed as though the confines of my space were making me increasingly achy, something I was not overly familiar with. Though I had been weak when taken back to Mirkwood, I had no lingering pain from my wounds.

I desperately wanted to see the sky and stars, and hoped that maybe one of the more friendly dwarves might be able to give me even the shortest of respites from looking at solid stone. If nothing else, it would help me escape the torment of my memories and thoughts. 

Whether he knew it or not, I noticed that Nori had been down to check on me once or twice. I had desperately hoped I might gain some knowledge of how Kíli was fairing from him but he didn’t speak to me, only seemed to observe and flee again.

The few times I had seen Bofur, he had no news and conversations were usually cut short by Glóin or Dwalin coming to get him for what I was sure was fake urgent business. They didn’t want us getting too friendly, that was obvious. It was impossible to blame them. For all the things I’d been told about dwarves, I was sure they’d heard just as bad or worse about elves. Knowing now the history of Thranduil with those from Erebor made it even easier for me to understand. There was little trust between our races, and both could be equally stubborn.

The stubbornness of dwarves was becoming more and more evident during the visits Dwalin would pay to my cell. He sought answers for why I was in the mountain, whether the king had sent me, and what sort of magic I was casting over their kin to cause his odd recovery. It was clear to me that fear or grief were driving forces behind this dwarf’s motives.

He grew more agitated with each day that passed and nothing I could tell him seemed to please or satisfy him. To his mind, my timing was more than coincidental and my claims of returning something belonging to Kíli was a ruse. I couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be a ruse for.

I explained I was no magical healer or whatever else he might have been led to believe, whether light or dark, good or evil. I kept to myself that I still held the runestone in my possession for fear he might confiscate it and leave me with nothing tangible to hold onto. No one knew yet what it was I had brought with me. And so far, I wanted to keep it that way.

Although Kíli had said it was a simple token, it had definitely become more of a talisman for me. It was all I had to pour my wishes and hopes into as I thanked the Valar that I even had the little extra time I’d had with him. Otherwise I had nothing to hide and answered what I could. Still, it never satisfied and Dwalin always left with a sterner and harder countenance than he had come with.

I wondered at the turnabout for me to now be at the mercy of the same dwarves we had imprisoned in Thranduil’s cells. I could not help my mind from the doubt that overwhelmed me when I wondered if this would forever be the future of my relations with dwarves and if I would succumb to the constant separation. It made me wonder if those who would keep us apart were only the beginning of opposition. It was equally saddening as it was infuriating that so many would rather segregate the people of Middle Earth when there was obviously the possibility for kindness and love between us all.

When I heard the heavy footfalls and light tinkling of metal in the distance, I sighed and wondered if today would be much the same. I’d no idea that Dwalin was in a worse state than I had ever seen him.

“I’ve had it with your lies once and for all. I’ll have it out of ye if it’s with yer last breath!” he bellowed as he stormed into the room.

I stilled completely where I was and glared, meeting his eyes. It was growing more and more tiresome to be accused of malicious intent. I had yet to see him this agitated, and while part of me feared his actions against me I was more concerned with what goings on in the mountain had caused such a dangerous rise in temper. From the moment the dwarves had entered into Mirkwood, Dwalin had been noted not just by myself to be the sterner and stronger of warriors in the company. Yet he followed the lead of his king. I could not speculate as to how he might behave without the king he also considered a brother.

I took a deep breath as he approached the bars of my cell, red faced and practically steaming. He had obviously reached his boiling point.

“I've seen the treachery of your people and this is the last time I'll let it claim any kin of mine in this mountain.” He was close to shaking as he reached for the keys on his belt.

Claim his kin? I knew he spoke of Thranduil turning his back on the dwarves when Smaug sacked the mountain. But now? Did he mean that Kíli had succumbed to the wounds that should have killed him?

I stepped forward towards the bars and demanded answers for myself. Playing the agreeable prisoner was getting me nowhere.

“What happened? Tell me -”

But he interrupted me as he flung open the cell door and barged inside towards me. I couldn't help but retreat a few steps to avoid being bowled over.

“I'll tell ye NOTHING, witch. They should have never let you in the gate. We should have known that you'd been poisoning his mind and body since you had him locked away from the rest of us!”

“I would never harm him! You know this.”

“More lies! Who else is to blame for his faltering in battle? For his weakness? Whatever you did to him will take him from us again!”

I swallowed and thought of Kíli, hoping beyond all reason that he was not lost. What Dwalin said stung deeply as I had long felt Kíli may never have fallen if he had not come to my aid. But did we really survive only to be given a brief final moment before our lives would be severed again? Never had I questioned the fairness of Iluvatar until now. I was angry at the distrust earned by others being placed on my shoulders, but I had no intention of fighting any of Kíli's kin, no words that might soothe.

Unconsciously my hand moved to my pocket where I might find comfort from the runestone. In a flash Dwalin had me cornered against the cold stone wall. Before I knew it his hand moved to grasp at my throat. “I should rid us of your curse once and for all. Maybe then he’ll wake again.”

Reflex had me thrusting my arm upwards into his to knock his hand away, but I was obviously still somewhat weakened as he merely tightened his grip. In my attempted defense the runestone was knocked from my grip. I struggled for a moment as I searched his eyes trying to comprehend what he meant by Kíli waking again, but then froze and questioned my own fate as I heard the stone hit the floor.


	15. Building Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the last chapter was left on such an angst driven cliffhanger! I'm sorry to my lovely readers but glad you're back for more! We have a little bit of a break from the excessive turmoil with a little levity brought to us by one of my _other_ favorite dwarves, as well as a longer than usual chapter. I hope you enjoy! And thank you immensely to everyone who gives kudos, comments, subscribes and continues to read and hopefully enjoy my story!!

The sound of the runestone clattering to the ground filled the otherwise silent chamber.

I stared wide eyed as I felt Dwalin’s grip on me loosen momentarily. His eyes were focused on the small but recognizable stone that had landed at the toe of his boot. In that mere moment of distraction, it would have been all too easy to reverse our fortunes and gain the upperhand to demand my own answers. There was a part of me that I had to admit to myself wanted to show this dwarf what I was capable of. But I had no ill will towards him or any of them other than keeping me apart from Kíli, and no desire to cause discord or shed blood. And so I remained still and hoped that he knew what lay at his feet before I felt forced to defend myself at his expense.

“Where did you get that?” His grip tightened as if a new spark of anger was ignited at believing I might have stolen something sacred. 

His hand on my throat was making my pulse hammer in my ears as I tried to calm my breathing. My eyes bored into him and my nails dug into his wrist angrily. Talking was more painful than I realized.

“It was given to me.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You know who it belongs to!” I cried out, furious at the tears finally betraying the whirlwind of fear, anger, and sorrow I had been trying to keep from not only him, but myself. “Why would I lie? Just… ask him.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something but did not answer, eyeing me with the same contempt and suspicion he had long cast my way. However, a new layer of emotion shadowed his gaze, his voice. A shiver of fear took me at why. Just what had set this dwarf I thought fearsome but honorable over the edge? His actions seemed less honorable each day. He said he hoped Kíli might wake again but hadn’t he woken when I arrived at the mountain? Surely, he was fine or they’d have told me. I told him the rest, since my only token now lay at his feet between us. Short of Kíli himself, I had nothing else to lose.

“He gave it to me after laketown burned. I came to return it to him.” I thought I might choke on the words even without his tightened fingers. “When I thought he was dead... I’d have seen it buried with him.”

His eyes sparked as I trembled at the idea of finding Kíli cold and entombed. I saw a flash of what seemed like terror and memory in Dwalin’s eyes. His hand released me as though he had been singed and I slumped to the floor, utterly exhausted. 

He looked at me again with what I could only hope was new understanding, but grief and shame took center stage in his eyes. He had stumbled a few steps back and in a daze bent to retrieve the stone, examining the carvings as though they held every truth and secret he’d thought I’d been keeping. His hand shook as he stepped further from me, his eyes now completely averted and looking anywhere but mine. He placed the runestone on the edge of my cot as he all but fled the cell.

Dwalin paused only a moment at the threshold and if not for my elven hearing I might never have heard him whisper. “I… Forgive me.”

When the sound of his footfalls were long gone and nothing could be heard but my own breath, I allowed myself to bury my head in my hands and weep. I reached for the stone and held it hard against my chest. I tried to focus and steady my breathing. The confrontation left me winded and pained, and I wondered if there was any hope left for me, for Kíli, for us. I tried to clear my mind and breathe, focusing on the purest memories I had to hold on to.

I couldn’t be sure if it was a mere moment or a long time later that Bofur’s hands on my shoulders drew me from my meditative and contemplative state. “Are you alright? What’s happened? Nori said - ”

Drawing myself together, as recovered as I imagined I would get, I simply shook my head. “It is nothing. I am well, master dwarf.”

“Well he was right. You look pale.” He raised my face with a finger on my chin and tsked at me. “More than usual for your kind, I mean.”

“I promise you, elvellon. Though fresh air and starlight would revive me more than I can say.”

“I think we can arrange that. But first, I have a request to make.”

I stood slowly. “I would be happy to oblige.”

Bofur laughed. “You haven’t heard what it is yet!”

I smiled softly at him. His oddly curving braids and floppy hat had long endeared him to me. How frantically he had raced up the steps in Laketown to bring athelas to Kíli, and his trust in me to heal his friend would always mean I owed him trust and friendship. Without his acceptance of me, Kíli might have been lost long before. It seemed that if I was destined to love a dwarf, I was equally meant to befriend his friends and kin even if not all. 

It was then I realized we had an audience. One of the younger of three dwarven brothers stood bashful near the entrance holding several books. I looked back to Bofur.

“What would you ask of me, Master dwarf?”

“Well first call me Bofur. Now then, I'm not sure you've been properly introduced to Ori here. Come on lad, she'll not bite!”

He motioned the dwarf forward and Ori blushed as he stepped into the room further.

“He's usually got his nose buried in his pages. Go on then, ask her!”

I turned my attention to the young dwarf with the rather dopey expression and equally dopey bowlish haircut. While Kíli's youth had brought on recklessness and passion, it seemed Ori’s had left him still with a degree of innocence and bashfulness. 

“I was wondering if… maybe… well…” He fumbled with the books to bring one to the top of his pile. “Could you translate this?”

He shoved the book into my hands. I gently wiped a thin layer of dust from it’s cover and read the script. I smiled kindly at Ori. “I would have thought such a well read person would not need a translation.”

He blushed and looked at his feet. “I’m well versed in tengwar, but this is not Westron or Khuzdul. I’m not as learned with the elven languages.”

“I was merely teasing, Master Ori. I would not imagine many dwarves are familiar with our languages. I would be happy to help.”

The text was Sindarin and would be easy enough for me to translate as I knew more of my mother tongue than any other variations. At a glance, it appeared the book held what might be recipes, instructions, and anecdotal histories related to healing. It was a curious text for the dwarves to have in their possession, but I had heard that at one time Erebor was rich in more ways than just gold and held an extensive library. Perhaps in the weeks since battle they had uncovered some of their previous riches beyond the gold and jewels that had acted as Smaug’s bedding.

Ori stepped close beside me and tried to read around me as I gently paged through the beginning of the book.

“I keep thinking I understand bits and pieces, but then it loses me again.”

I smiled, though somewhat pained as I still felt the weariness from dealing with Dwalin. Bofur obviously noticed my exhaustion and gently nudged Ori aside so that he could take the book from my hands. He placed it on top of Ori’s stack.

“Let’s get you some fresh air. Then the two of you can bury your noses in books for as long as you like.” Bofur took my elbow jovially in his arm. With my low energy, I was grateful that the dwarves were in no hurry and we meandered slowly back up through the stone streets and pathways towards the gates. However, we did not go directly to the gates where I had long ago entered the mountain, but veered down yet another corridor that led to a western facing outcropping.

The closer we had gotten towards the opening in the mountain, I felt calmer. As we stepped onto the ledge, I looked up into the night sky and immediately felt a wave of serenity wash over me. The stars shone brighter than I’d remembered, the air crisp and cool on my skin. I closed my eyes and let the night air surround me, imagined my walks through the forest and starlight back in Mirkwood. I remembered one of the last times I was able to enjoy Mereth Nuin Giliath, long before dwarves had crossed our lands and changed the course of my life forever. But I would not have traded partaking in the feast for the time I was given with Kíli.

I sighed and a smile crossed my face at the memory of his exuberance in sharing his tales of a fire moon.

“You’re already looking better, lass.”

I turned to Bofur and thanked him. “I have been longing for the light of the stars. There is nothing that wood elves love more.”

“No? Is there not?” He winked at me.

I laughed, though I felt a slight flush rise to my cheeks. “Perhaps, rarely, there are some things more beloved.”

I looked again to the stars and took in their light to my mind and memory before stepping back to the dwarves. “Should we return?”

“Are ye sure? The air is clear, the stars are bright. We can stay a bit longer if you like.”

I breathed deep. “I would, then. Yes.”

When he nodded and leaned back against the rampart to light and puff on his pipe, Ori settled himself on the ground with one of his books and a quill. I gazed up into the far reaching light that held the most precious of memories, and allowed the night sky and air to restore me. The peaceful quiet soothed the ragged edges still left from my wounds, heartache, and turmoil I was finding under the mountain. It still ached dully in my chest to have found Kíli alive and then be taken from him yet again. My desire to keep peace between myself and the dwarves was costing me more than I had imagined. I would not be able to remain silent and submissive.

Though I continued to face up to the starlit night, I glanced briefly at Bofur out of the corner of my eye.

“Was this once your home as well, Bofur?”

He came to stand beside me and look up at the same stars with me.

“No, lass. Me and my brothers called the Blue Mountains home. Far in the west, almost as far west as you could go. Almost to the sea with the long river lune running along on the eastern slopes.”

“I have never been that far west, not beyond Hithaeglir.” When he looked at me questioningly, I translated to the common tongue. “The Misty Mountains.”

“Really, now? There’s so much to see! Besides, there’s nothing like a bit of adventure when you’ve spent most your life mining.”

“Or climbing trees.”

He laughed.

“So you were a miner?”

“Oh, and a toymaker and … singer. Dancer. Drinker. Really, the list is as large as… well. You know what they say about dwarves, don’t you?” He winked at me and I laughed. “We may be short and stubborn. But we’ve got mighty bearded axes. As I’m sure you’ve found out!”

I raised a brow, not following right away.

“You know… Long sword? Fiddle stick? Third leg? The -”

I blushed and turned to him shocked. “I get it! And of course, in between saving you lot from dying and trying not to die myself, we nipped off to the forest. Yes, Bofur. That’s exactly what happened.”

He snorted and slapped me on the back, knocking me a step forward in the process. “I didn’t know elves could have a sense of humor.”

I shook my head at him. But then a less than amusing thought came to mind. “Is that what everyone thinks? Of Kíli?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really listen to most of what anyone says or thinks for that matter. It’s all a bunch of nonsense. And they don’t know you. Don’t care much about elves, the rest of em. Kíli’s always been a bit odd and had a fancy for the thinner, taller folk. But no one really knows what to make of you.”

“You’re the only one that asks. Dwalin in particular seems to have made up his mind.” I rubbed my throat, still not fully recovered and it was clear my healing was still so much slower than before my injuries.

Bofur sighed. “He hasn't been the same since Thorin fell. Close as brothers, those two. Always fighting side by side. And losing a brother that way, well, makes you hold on a bit tighter to what ya got left. It doesn’t help he blames himself.”

“For what?” I turned to look at him then and watch his brows knit.

“He’d have cleaved through the whole army of orcs and trolls, sacrificed his limbs to keep Thorin alive. Instead, they watched Fíli fall and Kíli charge off, and no matter how many he sent to the grave, he’ll always feel he failed them all. If you think about it now, Kíli’s all that’s left and he’s a bit of a reminder.”

“Hmm.”

He reached up and patted my shoulder much softer this time. “Don't be worrying about him, now. He’s as honorable a dwarf as he is a warrior. Best brother to have at your side in a battle and always fair. But like I said, he’s still lost.”

His description did not entirely match the dwarf I had encountered in my cell. While the honor and fairness could be questioned in recent days, the grief had been palpable.

I turned to face him and look into his kind eyes. 

“Will you tell me how Kíli fares?”

He seemed to weigh his words more carefully than usual. “Well about that, he's actually -”

Just then Ori jumped up from where he'd been reading and writing. 

“Why don’t we go check on him?”

I was a bit baffled at his sudden exclamation and joining in the conversation when he'd been so enthralled in his papers until that moment. But nothing would have made me feel more at ease than laying eyes on Kili myself. I looked back to Bofur and he motioned his head towards the stairs.

“Well let's go then.”

I walked ahead with Bofur and Ori whispering behind me thinking I might not hear.

“What are you about, lad?”

“I’ve an idea about her healing. I think this may prove me right.”

Bofur sighed quietly. “She’s said she doesn’t think she had anything to do with it, you know.”

“Maybe. Maybe she didn’t, or maybe she doesn’t know. But one way or another I think they’re connected somehow… so we’ll find out soon enough!”


	16. A Reviving Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! First off, thank you so much for your kudos, comments, and subscriptions!
> 
> I wanted to let you all know that I'm in the process of a very large move over the next couple days. As I'm not sure exactly when I'll be set up again, there may be a little bit longer of a delay before I can update the next chapter. BUT, this is a longer chapter to try and make up for it.
> 
> I hope to be back online and updating again within the week, but of course didn't want to leave you hanging in the event it takes me a bit longer with the move. Thank you again SO MUCH for reading and in advance for your patience. Enjoy!!!

Maybe it was my nerves or feeling refreshed from the open air outside of the mountain, but I could feel an energy returning and coursing through me as we turned corridor after corridor towards the healing halls. I knew it was in part the anticipation of seeing Kíli again. Before we could enter the room though, Bofur stopped me and put his hand on my arm.

“I didn’t tell ya before because I didn’t want you to worry, though I’ll know you’ll do so anyway. He’s been out and in a fever for a while and we’ve had some trouble bringing him round.”

“How long?”

He scratched his neck and looked at me quite sheepishly. “Three days.”

I immediately pushed past him into the room to find Kíli had lost some of his color and was in a restless deep sleep. Even with his pallor he had a sheen of sweat across his brow and trembled under the covers. He looked so close to how I had found him at Bard’s that for a moment I froze, reliving how I'd been torn between duty and saving him. I felt enraged and turned on Bofur who took a step in retreat.

“Why? Why was I not brought here sooner? And where is Óin?”

“Can you help him like before?”

I looked around the room and went to the table that held Óin’s herbs and concocted ointments. I rifled through them searching for whatever I might be able to use, relieved to find that Óin had taken to now stocking athelas after my use of it in Laketown.

“I hope so.” I thrust a handful of dried athelas at Ori. “Crush this in hot water and bring me back both the plant and the broth.”

He turned and ran, Bofur looking on and forgotten by me as Kíli became my sole focus. Kneeling beside his bed, I soaked a cloth in the nearby basin of cool water and wiped his brow.

“Kíli, what has happened?” I undid his shirt to check the wounds to his chest. What had closed and become a scar across his heart now looked dark and inflamed. “I don’t understand,” I said quietly to myself. “These were healed. They left barely a scar!”

“He was overdoing exercise and trying to get to you, I imagine. The boy gets something in his head, he never lets go. Typical Durin. Typical dwarf really.”

I shook my head at his foolishness, though my heart rejoiced at the idea that he had tried to find me, and I continued to wipe the sweat from his brow. I changed his blanket to something lighter and not damped by his sweat, and when Ori came back in I took the pot of water and athelas.

“Help me lift him. It will ease his breathing.”

Bofur took Kíli from under his arms and we hoisted him to a sitting position. I took the athelas and tore it, grinding in it my palms to make a paste for the poultice. Though there was no open wound, it would act as a compress to reduce swelling and draw out what might be infection or any lingering evil from Bolg’s mace. I smoothed the paste along the scar that blazed across his heart and spoke to him softly as I had before in Laketown, yet again willing my grace to pass to him. I worried that any luck I had in having the ears of the Valar would be long gone if they had ever heard my prayers for this dwarf in the first place. They had to, didn’t they? Whether divine intervention came to pass in bringing him back, I could only hope they would not rescind such a gift.

I gently massaged more of the paste onto his chest. The scent permeated the air, calming the worst of my fears as I watched some of the streaks emanating from the scar just beginning to fade. Ori leaned almost over my shoulder and drew a deep breath, as did Bofur with a large grin on his face. Kíli’s labored breathing eased, his face relaxing as I laid more athelas on him and wiped his brow with the cloth now soaked in the herb infused water.

“What is that you’ve used? Kingsfoil?” It was Ori who questioned me.

“You are right Master Ori. It is kingsfoil, also known as athelas.”

“The weed?” he asked.

“It is a powerful healing herb.”

“Aye, you used this back in Laketown,” Bofur interjected.

Ori drew another deep breath. “It… I never really noticed. It smells, well… It smells a bit like grass and flowers but, NO! It’s like the pages of my books and the leather binding. Parchment… and I can almost smell the ink!”

“You’re mad!” Bofur laughed. “Books!? You spend too much time in them if you think that smells like books!”

I smiled at them and tried to soothe Ori’s slight embarrassment. “Bofur, he is not wrong. Ori is a great reader and scribe, is he not? His books are his strength and bring him joy. The scent is different for everyone who smells it. I once heard of a man who found the scent like that of his horse.”

This was new to both of them and Ori was so intrigued he forgot that he wanted to note down what I was telling him. Bofur simply snorted at the idea.

“Sounds like he may have taken too much to his mount!”

“Well, he was one of the Rohirrim.”

“Never can tell what a man likes, can ye?” Bofur kept chuckling to himself.

“What does it smell like to you, Lady Tauriel?” Ori asked, intrigued and reverent.

I hesitated, not completely sure how to describe this new scent that was so strongly familiar and yet I could not place. Perhaps easier to tell them what I had always found pleasing in the herb until now. “It was the scent of a Spring night, of clean cold air flowing down off the mountain, high above the treetops beneath a dome of stars.”

Ori looked at me in awe, absorbing what I said and listening like a child might to a bedtime story. I smiled. Bofur, of course, caught my unintentional acknowledgement that this was no longer what scent permeated the air around me.

“Was?” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “So it changes?”

“Though I did not think so, it seems I was wrong.”

“What do you smell now?”

“I don’t know -” My eyes lingered on Kíli, wondering, as it began to dawn on me that it was the oddly endearing rough sweetness of his scent that had now replaced my love for clear starlit nights. I looked away from Kíli to Bofur and he seemed to understand without needing my words. He patted my shoulder and chuckled before he took out his pipe.

“Well I think it’s past time for supper! I think he’s in good hands, Ori. Let’s get a move on!”

“But -” Ori began to protest, still enamoured of the scent of the athelas and the knowledge he hoped I could impart on elves and our healing skills. 

“The pages aren’t going anywhere! Neither is your new friend. Come along and leave her to it! I hear some of the lads have found the old ale stocks. I’m thirsty and feel a song coming on, so we better get to it before they drain them all!”

Bofur laughed and practically dragged Ori from the room. I returned my attention to Kíli as I created more paste for his chest. The scent was intoxicating and I began to relax with the knowledge that he was alive and I would do anything to keep it that way. His chest already was looking better, his breathing calm, and some of his color returning. I stood to go get a piece of cloth to wrap around him for the poultice but was practically yanked backwards when his hand gripped mine.

“Don’t go.” His voice was a bit gravelled and rough, but he was awake.

“Shh. Lay still. I was only getting cloth.” But I stayed beside him

“This is the second time I’ve woken to find you at my bedside. I can’t say I mind it.” He released my hand once I sat and tried to raise himself and sit more comfortably. “How long was I out?”

“Bofur told me it had been three days since you fell unconscious. They could not wake you.”

“Hmm. It smells wonderful in here. What is that?”

I stood and walked to the cupboards for the cloth. “Your scar needed tending and your breathing was strained. You smell the athelas.”

“Last I remember this scent was in Lakewood when I thought I was in a fever dream. Crisp clean night air, wood, and something else… It was yet another time I found you at my side. Tending me.”

I laughed on a sigh. “I might not always need to be saving or tending you if your mother was not right. You are reckless.”

“Don’t act like you mind it.”

“And if I do mind? I am not on this earth merely to mend reckless dwarves constantly at risk of injuring themselves.” I gave him the best reproachful glare that I could manage in my elation that he was reviving.

He smirked and changed the subject to hide my wounding of his pride. “I feel so awake, it would be hard to believe I've been out so long if I didn't clearly remember falling in the stairwell.”

Having gathered the cloth I could find, I leaned over him. “The athelas is potent at first. You will be tired again once it has done its job. Now sit forward if you can. I need to wrap this in place.”

He moved slowly to sit more upright, his eyes fixated on mine, sending ripples of nerves through me. Though still leaning against the backboard, it was easier than it would have been were he still asleep and laying down. Sitting on the edge of the bed beside him, I laid the cloth gently across his chest and leaned closer so I could wrap it around his back. As I leaned forward, my arms wrapping around his torso to draw the cloth around him once more, my hair fell forward and he filled his hand with it and inhaled.

“It isn't the weed I smell. It's you.” There was a soft adoration to his voice reminding me of when he gave me his runestone and first murmured words I did not think I understood.

I spared him a glance as I brought the cloth around to his chest again, trying to hide the flutter in my heart. But even a glance was a mistake as my heart tripped and my hands faltered at the eye contact. Before I could lean back and tie the cloth at his side, he changed his grip in my hair and brought me forward to him. His mouth took mine, feasting like a man starved. My hands involuntarily dropped the cloth and moved to his chest and shoulders. 

I was suddenly grateful to be sitting as my knees felt weak when he pulled me against him, one arm wrapping around me as my own hand moved into his hair. When he sighed, it snapped me back to the realization I may be pressing against his wound and hurting him. I pulled away slightly, breaking the kiss to look in his eyes for signs of pain as he stroked my cheek with his thumb.

“Kíli, your chest - am I hurting you?”

“I’m fine. I've been dreaming of you. Amrâlimê.” he whispered a breath away.

I smiled and rested my forehead on his in relief, not knowing what significance this held for dwarves. “You would have me believe you are always dreaming of me.”

He grinned and my heart tumbled again. I made to move towards his mouth and kiss him again when a deep and unmistakable voice sounded from the doorway.

“Oh believe him, lass. None of us can scarcely spend a moment here without hearing your name on his lips in his fever dreams.”

I had been so distracted that I hadn't heard even the heaviest of footfalls from Dwalin entering the room. This would be a problem indeed if I were to be taken so off my guard when with Kíli. I'd have thought his recklessness rubbing off on me if I wasn't already foolhardy enough to have chased him and saved him. And loved him.

It felt as though an iron rod had replaced my spine as I stood straight and turned to him. I didn't know for how long Dwalin had been standing there or what he may have witnessed. There was no way for me to know that he had in fact witnessed everything from the moment I began wrapping Kíli’s poultice. I did not recognize the difference in his stern countenance, although at least there was a calmer air about him and he seemed less tormented than last I saw him in my cell. 

I understood now from Bofur what I had not before. Dwalin's loss of Thorin was equal to the loss of a brother, friend, and someone he had devoted himself to protecting. When he felt he had failed in his duty, his only recourse was fierce protection of Kíli from what he saw as a threat in many forms. It made me realize I had to be even more mindful of my behavior. Whatever he did or would witness, he would likely always feel protective over him out of regret, but also out of loyalty and love for his fallen brother and King. 

His concern for Kíli had so many layers that I infringed upon just by my presence, let alone not knowing whether I returned the young dwarf’s affections. Of this, Dwalin had every intention of finding out and what he had witnessed might begin to ease some of that particular worry. As Kíli had been raised by Thorin, Dwalin would at least take on protector if not uncle or father in his stead. Kíli was still young yet. And reckless.

“Master Dwalin.”

“Those pointy ears of yours must be old and failing if you didn't hear me.” He strode into the room to get a good look at how Kíli was doing and placed a large plate of food on the nearby table. His face was grim as crossed his arms and stood over his cousin’s nephew. “You’re pale.”

I quirked a brow at him when he wasn’t looking. His greeting to me seemed an oddly familiar retort from someone who only earlier had considered strangling the breath from me. I knew that dwarves were an ornery folk who often teased and insulted as a form of endearment as I had begun to experience with Bofur. But I dared not assume as much or respond in kind with Dwalin, though my tongue wanted to lash at him for his treatment of me in the dungeon. I bit my tongue as best I could in hopes of garnering some form of peace.

“I am only 6 and 30.”

“That would make you practically a babe to us!!” I looked at the shocked expression on Kíli face and then turned immediately to Dwalin who had begun chortling deeply.

“I don't understand.”

“By my beard! You hear that boy? You're a cradle robber!” Dwalin continued to laugh but I wasn't so amused even once I recognized my mistake. They thought I meant I was merely 36 years of age.

“It's not that funny, Dwalin.”

“Six hundred and 30,” I corrected with more pride than necessary as I began collecting the leftover herbs and cloth that I no longer needed. “It may be old in the ages of man and dwarf, but young still for elves.”

They both seemed to instantly sober, though Kíli's pained expression took on another understanding of the age between us and how he might seem a child to me. I would have already seen more than two of his lifespans by now. I wanted to soothe him. I wanted to go to him and kiss away the furrow in his worried brow. Instead, I hastily put away the supplies as I had found them and walked towards Dwalin as he cleared his throat.

“I will go back to my cell if you show me the way.”

“No! You can't seri-” Kíli began, struggling to sit up in his bed.

“Oh, quiet down laddie! ” He bellowed to stop Kíli's fussing. He looked at me long and silent as if making up his mind as to whether he was going to lock me up and throw away the key or not. Arms still crossed, glare still firm on his face, I tried to embrace the feeling of steel in my spine. “Bofur told me you were in here tending to Kíli. Thought I’d come keep an eye on you.”

“She doesn’t need a keeper, Dwalin.”

“Kíli, it’s alright.” I tried to at least demonstrate I was accepting of whatever position I was in, be it prisoner or otherwise. I also did not want a repeat of earlier, in the event Kíli in his lessened strength sought to protect me somehow. 

“No! It’s not alright. You’ve saved me more times than seems possible and they all have to see -”

Dwalin simply spoke over him again as Kíli was in no position to do much about it. “I'm not taking her back to the dungeon, so ye can untwist your trousers.”

I did not want to question him in the event he change his mind, but it was such a drastic change I found myself asking why. Dwalin let out of huff of breath.

“The lad’s awake, isn’t he? Seems you may have had something to do with that.” He wandered over to idly inspect the herbs on Óin’s table, sniffing one of the jars and grimacing before shoving it away in disgust. “What in Mahal’s name does he put in these things?”

I was still not sure what his true purpose was and as he wasted time looking at the bottles and store, I moved closer to Kíli’s side. I felt his fingers brush mine and took strength from the contact. Finally he turned and though he squinted at Kíli’s fast movement of his hand away from mine, he walked back towards us.

“I didn't come here to take ye back down, I came to see if I was wrong. I was.”

I failed at masking my surprise based on the grimace on Dwalin's face and the hiss of breath he exhaled.

“What happened?” Kíli was oblivious to all except that I had been taken away that first night of my arrival. Though Nori had told him I seemed unwell, he did not know the extent or the reason.

“If you weren't busy trying to get your tongue down her throat she might have told ye.”

I shook my head that I'd have not.

“All the same. I haven't been myself since Thorin…” He seemed to choke on the words. “Since Thorin fell. Didn’t see it until now.”

He paused as the grief struck him deeply again. If his loss was so great, I wondered at how Kíli would fare with it as the loss of his uncle and brother had yet to be discussed with him being unconscious for half our time together. I could see the memories flash in his eyes, though I knew them not. It was clear as daylight that this fierce soldier drew much of his strength from his passion for his friends and family.

“An elf in this mountain. He wouldn’t like it,” he half said to himself with a hint of humor. He sobered and sniffed back at what tears might have begun to form, returning his stern gaze to me. “I can see now with my own eyes you're helping. He woke up the first time when you got here. And again tonight because of you. So ye can't be wholly evil.”

I felt as though this might be the closest I would ever get to hearing that he accepted me from such a fiercely stoic dwarf. What was not the most endearing of compliments to me, I knew was meant kindly from him.

“Trustin’ an elf doesn’t come easy.”

“The histories between our people and the behavior of my king would provide much reason for distrust.”

He nodded, pleased that I understood he may still withhold his trust but was at least of the mind that peace had to be brokered for the sake of his healing kin. 

“I'm sorry, lass. Kíli. I can’t take it back, but I hope you can forgive me.”

“Grief can make even the strongest and wisest its servant.” When Dwalin’s eyes watered again at my words, I simply bowed my head in acceptance, noting that Kíli was watching curiously while fighting a resurgence of drowsiness.

“Well then.” He cleared his throat and seemed to puff himself up to recover from his moment of feeling weak over his loss. He motioned to the plate of food he’d brought with him. It was heaped with breads and cheese, cake, meats, and a portion of salad and greens. “Wasn’t quite sure what you might like or if he’d have woken yet. It’s a bit of everything. Your folk in Rivendell had no meat,” At this he grumbled. “So what’s there is for him if you’re not interested.”

I smiled at him and for a moment I thought he might blush. “Thank you, Master Dwalin.”

He bent slightly at the waist and bowed. “At your service.”

With that, he left and I sat to slow my quickened heart. Kíli reached his hand out to me. “Come here. Tell me what happened since he’s unlikely to.”

I moved to sit beside him and took his hand in mind. “You are tired. I can see it.”

“I’ve slept for 3 days.” 

I smiled at his wanting to stay awake and talk to me. I so wanted to be able to talk again and hear his stories as I once had while he was in the cell in Thranduil’s halls. His recovery had to come first.

“You were unconscious. There is a difference, Kíli. Do not argue, rest.”

“I won’t let this go.”

“I have witnessed enough of dwarves to know that is truth.” I brushed his hair from his brow.

“Will you stay?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll dream of you.” And with a smile he slept.


	17. Through the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm alive! and I'm SO sorry for the delay in this update, but this international move has kicked my butt! I'm finally getting remotely settled and didn't want to make you wait any longer. I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things and back on schedule with updates :) Thank you SO much for reading, commenting and sticking around for more of the story!! So, without further wait...

As he slept in the night, I checked the poultice. The streaking from his scar had gone, and the redness had faded. Even for athelas this was working faster than I expected, so although I wanted to refresh the paste it could wait until he woke. It was a worry that he had the appearance of a speedy recovery only to relapse, so I preferred to stay ahead of it now that I was being given the chance to watch over him. We would have to enforce more rest until his heart could handle more and we understood how well he truly was. Of course, his escapades had to end. For now.

Ori had come back after they finished supper to discuss athelas and its properties more, so I imparted what knowledge I could. I had to remind him that while most elves possessed some knowledge of healing, I was no trained healer and was limited in my experiences. I had perhaps done more healing since knowing the dwarves than I had in the previous hundred years.

“There are many great healers among our people, in particular Lord Elrond of Imladris. I have heard tales of his skills. He is one of the eldest of our race and has great power. It is said that he descends from Lúthien, whose healing powers were unique according to the stories I have heard.”

“We met Lord Elrond!” Ori exclaimed, then quickly quieted again so as not to wake Kíli. “We were his guests in Rivendell for a short time. But I have not heard of Lúthien before.”

“I have never met him. But how I would love to see Imladris.”

“You have never been?”

“No. Until your company came upon our wood, I had not ventured too far beyond our borders but to cleanse orc or spiders from our lands.” I did not tell him that part of the reason I had not been to Rivendell or to see any other lands was due to the very insular nature of our king.

He smiled and wrote more in his book. I turned my attention briefly to Kíli who groaned in a restless motion. I lay my hand on his brow to check his temperature and found it satisfactory. My touch seemed to sooth him quickly as he relaxed and returned to a deep restful sleep.

“Who was Lúthien?” Ori asked.

Turning back to him I smiled. “She was an elven woman who gave her immortal life for the love of the man Beren. It is a very long tale of love and loss and the grace of the Valar. I have only heard it a few times as a youngling so would not do it justice.”

“Perhaps we might find it in our library.”

“I would doubt it greatly, but perhaps if dwarves of ages past held the elves in greater favor than now. If ever you find yourself in Rivendell again, Lord Elrond would likely know of her story better than I.”

We spoke long about how he found Rivendell and their hosts, the lack of meats, and the fresh bathing fountains. I could not help but laugh at the idea of a company of dwarves bathing in the fountains of the Last Homely House. His cheeks went pink with embarrassment as he was truly shocked to learn that the fountains were indeed not for bathing.

When it seemed he might be ready for sleep himself, he brought me a fresh basin of water for me to wash with and retired to whatever chambers the dwarves had eked out for themselves in their rehabilitation of the mountain. I soaked a cloth and began to wash my face and neck. I brushed through my hair with my fingers and rebraided it away from my face before returning to sit beside Kíli.

He turned in his sleep and proved Dwalin right as he murmured my name. My heart ached in pleasure at knowing I occupied his dreams and hopefully his heart. A feeling washed over me suddenly as I worried that this would not last for him, unsure if dwarves were like elves in their choosing of partners. I had known with the memories now beginning to flood through my mind that I was doomed to be bound to his fate. I only hoped his heart was not as fickle as that of men and would prove as devoted as the elven.

When Kíli’s dreams turned dark and he became restless, I kneeled beside him and brushed away some of the strands of hair that fell loose upon his brow.

“It is just a dream.” I whispered to him hoping it would reach him and calm what dread had found him in sleep.

He opened his eyes, still half asleep, and though his lips did not curve there was a light smile in his eyes. “You stayed.”

“I said I would.”

He reached for me. “Lay with me.”

“Kíli!” I chastised him as I was somewhat shocked at his suggestion. No matter my connection to him and my wanting, it would be too imprudent. I felt the heat on the back of my neck at the idea. “We cannot. And you are still unwell.”

“That is not what I meant, Tauriel.” He chuckled softly. “Though I see what is on your mind clear enough. I merely want you beside me. I feel better, stronger with you here.”

My heart shimmered inside me like molten gold as he gently pulled me to lay on the bed beside him. There was no part of me that could resist his soft plea for the comfort it seemed only I could provide. He tucked me against him and promptly fell back to sleep. Part of me wanted to laugh, as if he may have done all this believing it a dream. But I simply laid in his arms and thought of the many roads that led us here.

I lay still as Kíli wrapped around me in his sleep, my eyes un-closed as I rested my mind. Dream and night blended as the hours passed by, strength returning to us both. Knowing that Dwalin would not go far, I noticed in my walking between sleep and dream that he had indeed attempted to quietly pass by the doorway more than once, ensuring that the door remained open and that his kin was safe. I knew it was to keep an eye on me. He’d not be quick to trust me as he said himself. He may never truly trust me. But it was a start. 

As morning approached, I could hear the movements of the dwarves begin their work for the day. From what it had appeared, there was still rebuilding to be done along with transferring the treasure hoard up to higher levels where eventually smiths and tinkerers could work at the gems and metal. Bofur had told me during my time in the dungeon that they were clearing out the debris and charred furniture from the great halls and galleries as well.

When I attempted to extricate myself from Kíli’s grasp, his arms simply tightened as though I were his lifeline. I sighed and contemplated waking him even though I knew that his three days had not been restful and rest was something he needed still.

Dwalin, as I expected, was first to greet me that morning, though greeting would have been too friendly a term. There seemed to be what I could only describe as a growl forming deep in his throat as he glared viciously at me. With one free hand I tried to indicate that Kíli was asleep and again attempted to stand in demonstration that I had tried.

“Bloody elves,” Dwalin huffed as he marched over to the bed. I stiffened slightly when he simply grabbed Kíli’s arms and removed them from me with no preamble.

Kíli practically shot upright and out of bed in an amusing display of trying to fight whatever might have just attacked. He flailed for a moment in which I ducked nimbly out of the way and stood aside as Dwalin snagged his arms and shoved him down again.

“Well then.” I cleared my throat. I stepped away to straighten my tunic and gather supplies to redress Kíli’s chest. I ignored the grumbling between him and Dwalin and tried my best not to blush when he winked at me. “You must rest and drink plenty of liquid. We will need to redress this once more if it does not reduce in redness by tonight.”

As I redressed the wound, Oin joined us and listened to Kíli’s heart and lungs with his trumpet before looking at my work.

“The wonders of elvish medicine never end. Sounds much stronger and steadier. But I wonder if all are as gifted as you.”

“You are too kind Master Oin. I am no gifted healer, but try where I can.”

“I’d still like to know more of how you’ve brought him back to us yet again, time after time.”

My brows knit together. “I wish I had an answer myself. But for your own practices, always keep a stock of athelas, or kingsfoil,” I corrected. “It has endless uses and healing properties that even I do not know all of.”

“Aye, but this isn’t all the weeds doing.”

“If you’d have listened, I could have told you.” Ori joined us and decided he might finally have the evidence of what he’d attempted to have the dwarves tempt sooner.

“Not this again!” Dwalin had obviously heard enough of whatever Ori had been trying to tell them. He gently smacked Kíli on the shoulder, told him he was glad he was awake again and quickly left.

Oin simply grunted. “And I’m tellin ya, you’re off your rocker! Come with me lass, we’ll see what else you can tell me about your wondrous elvish herbs over breakfast. You could use some meat on those bones!”

I smiled apologetically towards Kíli as I was ushered by the older dwarf from the room.

“Ori,” Kíli called to him, adjusting himself to sit more upright.

Thinking he was merely asking for help, Ori went over and started stuffing pillows behind him trying to make him more comfortable.

“Better?”

“Yes, but what were you talking about before?”

“Oh, nothing I suppose. No one thinks much of it.” Ori fidgeted.

“Sit down. Tell me.”

“You don’t want to hear about it.”

“Ori, I do. Tell me, please?” Kíli motioned to a nearby chair and waited patiently for him to make up his mind and finally sit down.

“Well, I just think that there’s more to what happened with you because of Tauriel.” Ori looked at his books.

Kíli combated the feeling of worry and curiosity with patience for Ori. Being younger brother to Fíli had definitely taught him how it felt to be the youngest and often considered less important. Kíli knew that Ori looked up to him as an older brother much as he had to Fíli, even if he thought it not wise considering how much trouble he constantly found himself in. How he missed and longed for his brother at his side. But now was not the time to sink into the ache of that loss.

“How?” Kíli prompted.

“I seem to be the only one who thinks it’s not just a coincidence that you woke up when she got here! And then… then you got weaker when she was taken away! Then!” Ori flipped excitedly through his notes. “You were unconscious for 3 days and nights, each night you worsened until we brought her to you. And that’s when you woke again.”

Although the scent of athelas remained due to leaves steeping in water near Kíli’s bedside to increase his strength, he felt fatigued trying to comprehend what connection was being drawn.

“Are you saying… I don’t know what you’re saying. What are you saying?”

Ori scooted his chair closer as if to reveal some secret mystery. “I think, somehow or another, your… fates or… something are tied together.”

“What does that mean, Ori?” He was becoming anxious at the idea.

“I honestly don’t know.” Though a positive look of excitement still spread across Ori’s face, he sighed and slumped in the chair again before shrugging. “Just, I’ve noticed.” 

“Hmm.” Kíli stared off towards the door in thought. The promise he had made and what faded dreams and visions he thought he remembered from before he woke the first time swirled in his mind.

“I’ve found some books on elvish healing I want her to help me translate. I’ve only been able to make out a few things here and there.”

“You should tell her what you think. She may know something you have not read in your books.” He grew wistful and pained as another thought crossed his mind. “She may know a very great deal for the centuries she has seen and will see long after you and I are gone.”

“She’s said she doesn’t know. But there must be more to elvish healing. Do you remember what it was like in Laketown? What happened when she healed you?”

“I… I remember warmth spreading through me as the pain eased. Chanting. She was chanting but I don’t know what.” He remembered thinking he was in a dream and she was lost to him. “Where my vision had gone dark and blurred I saw her bathed in light so clear, and warm, like the sun.”

Ori was enthralled and scribbled away in his notebook. He was hoping to build upon the recorded knowledge of elvish healing while he had someone obviously talented in their skills within the mountain and within his reach. Her translations would help immensely.

“I remember staring, not knowing what I saw. I wanted to cry at her beauty. In honesty, Ori, I did not think her real. I believed it all a dream until later. I was half drunk on whatever spell she cast.”

“Do you still feel that way?” There were so many reasons he wanted to know and not all of them because of his pursuit of knowledge. Yes, he wanted to know if the healing she had done then was like that which she had performed more recently. But Ori also asked for fear that the rest of the company who did not favor her as he had slowly been growing to would be right. There was magic and he was under a spell.

“A bit. But it is different. I want her beside me. I feel stronger and more alive. Tell me, Ori, can that be a spell? Do you think it is real?”

“I don’t know, Kíli. She told me there was once an elf who gave her immortality for a man. I wonder if all elves can do this?”

Kíli became suddenly fearful that she might have given up her life for his and though it gave his heart hope for the love he held for her be returned, he would not wish she make such a sacrifice. He grasped Ori’s wrist. “Find out what you can. I would not have her sacrifice herself for me.”

Their eyes met, concerned, not knowing what the answers were or if they were even asking the right questions. The only question that kept replaying in Kíli’s mind though was one he found himself asking so many weeks ago when his head rested on a pillow of walnuts. Could she truly love him?

As Kíli was about to voice the dread that began to weigh on him at the idea that he was alone in his feelings, Nori came in with a heaping plate of breakfast for the recovering dwarf.

“We’ve got just about everything to choose from!”

“Ah, Nori, thank you.”

Nori handed him the plate and wandered the room for a moment before coming back with the intent of teasing his brother.

“Nori. You know more than most anything that goes on in this mountain.”

“I do my best to.” He winked while managing to look just the slightest bit chagrined.

“Do you know what happened to Tauriel?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Dwalin came to apologize but neither tell me what happened.”

“Don’t know that it’s my business.”

“And that’s stopped you when?”

The chagrin reappeared. “True.”

“I don’t know that either will tell me what passed between them, so will you?”

Nori shuffled his feet a bit and seemed to think on what he might share, not wanting to throw Dwalin to the wolves but really not wanting to be anything but as impartial as he could. “I didn’t see everything. I was nipping down to the dungeons to check on this little bit of… well… I… anyway. I came past the dungeon when he was shouting and it seemed like he might have had her by the throat threatening you’d wake if he got rid of her.”

Kíli felt a burning fury within him start to rise to the surface that he had only felt once before and was forcing himself not to face. He’d only been this enraged after watching his brother fall from the heights of Ravenhill. He swore to himself no hand would ever touch her in anger again and he’d spend the rest of his time in Arda defending the elf that had imprinted herself so strongly on his heart.

It was then that a horn sounded in the mountain a few moments before the object of his affection came in hot on Óin’s heels.

“We might have a wee bit of a problem,” Óin announced. “Dain’s returned.”


	18. The Ironfoot Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kudos and to the encouraging comments after the last update! I know I haven't replied yet to comments, but wanted to get this update up first! If you have bookmarked or subscribed after the last chapter, thank you for that as well!

A large procession of battle boars descended upon the mountain with Dain leading the way. Wagons followed behind with more Ironfoot marching at the rear of the caravan that had travelled back to Erebor from the Iron Hills. Dain had brought with him many skilled craftsmen to help any repair and rebuilding efforts, supplies until trade could be properly established with their neighbors, and a handful of dwarrowdams that were accompanying his wife. Many of those that made up the caravan had once called the Lonely Mountain their home before the Sack of Erebor when Smaug drove them from the city.

The horn sounded in the mountain announcing the return of the king. He had left many men in the mountain to begin the process of clearing out that stench of dragon and making their halls presentable and livable again. They were greeted at the gates, the boars led to stables, and wagons unloaded. Those that were returning after so many years in exile stood agape as they crossed the threshold onto the winding paved road that led into the long abandoned city. Many had never seen the halls of Erebor and only heard stories of the treasure and its grandness in the capital city of Durin’s Folk.

As Dain and his entourage passed through the echoing halls to the throne room, most of Thorin’s company waited to greet him. They all bowed their heads to him as he entered and stopped before Balin, the long trusted advisor to Thorin on his quest and in his exile.

“I know custom called for sooner, but I’d not have seen it done til I returned. Show me to my kin and we can get this dark business behind us.”

Balin understood. Really, they all had understood that custom would wait for kin when the loss was so great.

“Eh, there’s something we need to discuss.” Balin knew that the sooner their unusual guest was addressed the better. If he was able to ease the capricious Ironfoot before any accidental appearances of the elf, all the better for everyone.

Dain simply shrugged off his heavy travelling coat and tossed it aside. It landed at Bifur’s feet who just looked at it, cocked an eyebrow, and side stepped away.

“How about we discuss all ye want, after I’ve seen my fallen cousins!?” Dain boomed.

Knowing the unpredictable nature of Dain well enough, Balin put it aside for the moment. He led Dain and the entourage further into the mountain and down to the chamber where Thorin and Fíli would be entombed.

Many of the dwarves that had accompanied Dain had known Thorin in the days of Erebor before Smaug descended upon them. There were many that had fled to the Iron Hills that he had known would want to pay their respects, and so the official ceremonies had waited for their arrival. He’d not delay anymore as it was already well beyond their standard expectations.

“We’ll bury them at dawn,” he announced. “What of my other cousin?”

Balin approached him again. “That’s what I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Well let’s have it then!”

“It was touch and go and you know he was unconscious since we brought him down from Ravenhill. He woke just a week ago and isn’t quite fully recovered. He’s most definitely not ready, but he’s alive.”

Dain slapped Balin on the back in cheer even if a part of him was dubious of his cousin’s health and insisted they go see him at once. He strode through the mountain corridors and hopped down the stairwells quickly as dwarves made way for the rushing king. Balin and the company followed behind and several tumbled into each other when he stopped short at the threshold of Kíli’s healing room. He ignored the grumbling as they righted themselves and went to his cousin. 

“Well aren’t you a sight, laddie! Thought you were headed for the grave when I left.”

Kíli’s face was schooled into a slightly grinning grimace as he began to sit up straighter and made as if to get out of bed. “Cousin -”

“Oh no, don’t ye even think of it!” Dain slapped him on the shoulder and laughed, taking a seat on the chair beside his bed. He grew solemn and serious as he looked him over, the compress wrapped neatly around his chest under an open shirt, pillows and blankets around him to keep him from too much movement in his sleep. “I’m sorry about Thorin and yer brother. Either of them should be wearin’ the crown on their heads. At least we can be glad they are feasting with their fathers and Mahal!”

Kíli felt a slight pang of guilt that he really had not grieved as he should. He knew that he was not returned to his full strength yet and his mind still lingered on his own experience with Mahal and the dreams that filled his sleep. He was still burying the anger he felt and knew when grief came for him, it would sink claws in his heart and he wasn’t strong enough or ready to face the realization that he would live the rest of his life without his uncle, and worse, without his brother. The reality, he knew, would take hold when forced to face their tombs. It was easier to focus on other things. 

“How was your journey to the hills, cousin?”

“Easy enough. Brought back enough to feast for a week in your uncle’s honor! And speaking of feasts, I know some lasses come back with me that might catch your eye and snag your arm for a dance once you’re on your feet.” Dain laughed and punched him in the arm, not noticing the looks exchanged between the dwarves around them. “Get yer rest laddie, so we can finally feast and honor our fallen brothers right and proper! Then there’s lots of business to attend to.”

Kíli spared a glance for his comrades behind Dain, but kept his face as neutral as he could and hoped none would give up the facade. “I look forward to it! And the dams ’ll be a nice change of scene than this lot!”

Dain laughed heartily as the company exchanged looks unnoticed.

“But what about-” Bombur began to say before Bofur promptly elbowed him.

“Hmm?” Dain turned and crooked an eyebrow as Bombur grasped his side and coughed. 

“You alright there, Bombur?” Bofur slapped him heartily on the back and smiled.

Dwalin eyed the brothers suspiciously but having an inclination of what they were murmuring about, stepped forward. “We should let the lad rest and discuss the city watch now that you’ve returned.”

“Aye, we shall.” Dain stood. “We’ll give the folk that joined me tonight to get settled and tomorrow we pay honor to our fallen and feast!! Best find your feet before then, my lad! I reckon there will plenty wanting your attentions!”

The king led the way out of the room with Dwalin, Gloin, and Balin in his wake, with Dori following shortly behind. Kíli let out a massive sigh and slumped back down on the bed. He looked at the three brothers who still stood staring at him. Oin had remained inconspicuously quiet and occupied with his tinctures. Bofur took out his pipe and packed it thoughtfully. Bombur was the first to break the silence.

“What the bloody hell was that for!?”

Bofur simply gaped and nearly thought about elbowing him again for the hell of it. “Really now. Ya don’t happen to think that Dain might be none too pleased to find our elven friend wandering free as she likes under the mountain? By all means, Bombur, do go and break the news to him. I’m sure that will go over just grand with our new king.”

Bifur let out a loud guffaw, seeming to surprise even himself before turning and wandering out of the room. Kíli just shook his head.

“So Kíli,” Bofur began with a mischievous grin forming.

“Hmm?” Kíli stretched and then slid further down in the bed, fidgeting and poking leisurely at the blankets and pillows on the bed beside him, avoiding eye contact with Bofur as he stepped a bit closer.

“Where is the lovely long legged lass of yours?”

Kíli shrugged as he continued to play with and poke at the bedding. Bofur made a face at the fidgeting gesture to show he in no way believed the lad didn't know where she was at any given moment. Nori simply chuckled and stared at the ceiling.

“Right. Where is she?”

“Really, Bofur. I’ve no idea. OW-” Kíli jumped slightly in his bed, stopping Bofur in his tracks and gaining Oin’s attention thinking Kíli might have done something to himself.

“What in Mahal’s name …”

“Just a spasm! I’m fine, really, just fine. Awfully tired though. Could use some more sleep,” he yawned.

Bofur squinted with a twinkle in his eye and a strong suspicion. He nodded and puffed on his pipe.

“Bombur, what do ya say to some breakfast?” He shook his head in good humor with himself. “What am I thinking. Oin!! Breakfast! Come on, Dori.”

They all made tracks to the door and as he was the last to leave, Bofur turned back to Kíli and winked.

“Good morning, Tauriel. I’ll bring you both a plate.”

“Thank you Bofur,” came the muffled reply from beneath the pile of pillows.

When he left and closed the door behind him, Kíli flung back the sheets and pushed the pillows to the edge of the bed.

“And just what did I do to deserve that?” He pouted as he rubbed the spot on his thigh where I had pinched due to him poking at me through the pillows. 

I squinted at him as I sat up and straightened my tunic. My hair was a bit of a mess around me so I brushed it away from my face and tried to unknot it where I could. “You know precisely.”

“Oh, you know I was jesting about the dams, Tauriel!”

I pretended to be affronted and softly rose to climb over and out of the bed. “If you would entertain the thought while hiding a woman with sharp blades beneath your sheets… then you truly are reckless.”

He rolled his eyes when I laughed again. As I kneeled and began to stand over him and off the bed, he quickly shot an arm up and around my waist and unbalanced me onto my back, levering himself slightly over me. I tried to calm my heart as it betrayed me with its sudden racing.

“And if I am?”

“Then you should learn to be more wary of your prey,” I began. Before he could inquire as to my meaning, in a blink my dagger’s edge pressed lightly against his throat. A flicker of shock came upon his face before I reversed our positions and hovered over him, his hands raised in surrender. “Lest you be the prey.”

It was no longer shock that I saw in his eyes but desire. His hand timidly moved towards me and I squinted threateningly at him, maintaining the position of my blade. I saw the warring wariness with desire in his eyes and tried to hide my own. But when his hand grasped the back of my neck and fisted in my hair, I allowed my blade to fall aside as he brought me to him and crushed his mouth to mine. I went along for the ride until I became desperate for air, the heat pumping off of him overwhelming me.

“You have no idea how I want you, amrâlimê,” he groaned as I pulled back.

“Kíli,” I laughed and moved so that I sat beside him instead of straddling him. “I believe if nothing else, your desire is clear to more than me. Please be careful. It is obvious that this is not the time for recklessness.”

“You’re one to talk.”

I blushed, knowing he was right that my recklessness had also led me here. He sat upright and brushed his fingers through my hair, catching in a tangle I had not finished working out.

“Turn around,” he instructed. 

When I tilted my head questioning why, he simply grabbed my shoulders and rotated me himself. He gently worked his fingers through my hair from the bottom up to untangle what knots were left due to being unceremoniously smothered beside him at Dain’s sudden arrival. I closed my eyes, absorbing the feeling of someone else working through my hair. I could not remember the last time, if there was one, that I had someone else pay such attention. As a child I had been taught some braiding skills when I was brought to the Woodland Realm as an orphan. I did not remember my parents or my heritage, but knew that I did not completely belong with the elves of Mirkwood. I consistently fumbled at their style of braiding, left to manage and form my own.

“You haven’t told me what happened yet. With Dwalin,” he said quietly.

I sighed as Kíli’s fingers moved deftly and attentively across my scalp as he pulled strands into braids similar to those he had seen me wearing many times. 

“He thought that I might know more of your state than I would say. And when you collapsed, I fear he was not himself when he came again to question me.”

I felt his fingers pause and tense in my hair. “There is more. Nori said he saw him lay hands on you. Did he harm you?”

It felt as though I had a very thin line to walk. I knew full well that Dwalin had not been in his right mind. Also, how could I know if the knowledge of what was said and how I had been treated would lead to more anger or violence. I took pause as he continued to weave plaits into my hair, pulling it away from my neck and running his fingers along my skin. I shivered.

“Little will harm an elf. We heal easily and quickly. You can see for yourself I have no marks. Do not worry, Kíli.”

He left the majority of my hair cascading free from an intricate woven set of braids that formed a ring around my head. He had woven it neatly so as to keep the most troublesome loose strands out of my face. I couldn’t help but smile that he knew the loose hairs were a hindrance to a bow and to my fighting style.

“There. Done.”

I ran my hands across the braids, in awe of the intricate detail that I could never have managed. “Thank you.”

Turning to face him, I laid a kiss upon his brow before rising to wash my face in the nearby basin. As I dried my skin, I glanced over my shoulder at him.

“You cannot hide me in your bedsheets every time your king comes along.”

“Can I hide you in my bedsheets otherwise?” He grinned wickedly and I merely cocked an eyebrow and scoffed at him. “No, I suppose I cannot. In any case, I do not want to hide you. I would have you beside me at the feast. You will scare off any dam that dare approach me and want to dance.”

When his groaning over the idea of dancing failed to amuse me as he had hoped, he changed tactics once more. “Tauriel, you warm me. I feel your absence even if you are as close or far as the library. Do not be angry with me that I would like to avoid the politics of dealing with Dain and his entourage.”

I returned to check his wound and listen to his heart and sighed. “I am not angry at you, Kíli. But we need to be wary.”

It was then that Ori entered carrying a large pile of books and nudged the door shut after him. He beamed pleasantly.

“Some light reading. Thought you’d like company while you have breakfast.”

“I’m starved!” Kíli stood slowly with greater ease than he expected.

Deciding that utilizing his energy when he felt it might strengthen him and build back his stamina, I insisted Kíli eat at the table after I nudged it slightly further away to the other wall. He nearly gaped.

“You’re wicked.”

“I can tell you're gaining strength again and we should take advantage.”

“I'd rather you take advantage in other ways.” He grumbled, but moved slowly across the room to the table. I chose to ignore his quip as if I hadn’t heard.

When Óin returned along with Balin and Bofur all carrying their own heaping plates, I listened as they discussed what approach would be best for convincing the unpredictable Dain to accept an elf as a guest under the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick word on updates - For those that are aware and have asked, my move has gone relatively well, but I'm still quite busy getting settled. I'm hustling to get as many chapters done as possible before life REALLY gets busy with graduate school (why I moved) during which updates might become fewer and farther between. I'm hoping to write as much as possible in the coming month or two and keep some chapters in reserve for those busy times so it doesn't feel so sparse. But I have NO intentions of abandoning the story any time soon!! I just want to keep you lovely readers apprised so it comes as no surprise! :)


	19. Facing Doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay. Thank you to everyone for your patience and for your lovely comments, kudos, and follows!!!

Long through the day, the paved stone paths and stairwells were bustling with dwarrows preparing for the feast that would take place in the Great Chamber the following day. Having an elf wandering around would not be easily overlooked without word getting back to Dain, and so leaving the healing chamber was no longer an option. It would be a bit of a surprise if he hadn’t heard at least whispers or rumors already since some of his dwarves from the Iron Hills had stayed behind and been in the mountain since my arrival. I was not thrilled at the idea of being snuck around or having to leave the mountain, so my mood suffered but for Kíli’s attempts at forcing smiles and laughs from me when he could.

Only Óin seemed to grumble about my constant presence, as once or twice he thought I was judging his work. In truth, I had been deep in thought and not listening or watching anything he was doing. Kíli wanted to work harder and faster than either Óin or I would allow out of worry for his heart. He felt strong which was a good sign that more of the infection that lingered was being drawn out.

I was grateful when Ori came with yet more books in the later part of the day to request my help on his translations. The distraction was also helpful in keeping Kíli at bay. My being occupied meant that he had to exercise or rest or converse with his friends and kin. 

While he seemed to have no qualms in his affections being witnessed, it was not something I was used to. Even elves who had paired and married were not public in their displays. It seemed to dishearten Kíli, but I felt my place among his people was still precarious enough to warrant the discretion. I kept myself buried in the books Ori had brought to me and ignored as many ploys for attention that I could, though it brought upon me a somber uneasiness to do so.

I trained my eyes to the task at hand, but my ears picked up on the sounds and conversations, and I could practically feel the mood of the room closing in around me. I felt waves of confused temper rolling towards me and knew precisely where it came from.

Balin was trying to no avail to convince Kíli that confronting Dain before he was fully recovered would not go well. Dain founded much of his respect for Thorin on his battle prowess and strength and leadership. Kili would never manage to gain the respect enough to be heard by the king unless he was strong enough for combat. His age was of no help either. Balin knew that was how Dain had long resolved internal conflicts among his people and why his rulings or opinions were rarely questioned and overthrown. Few would or could best him in hand to hand.

Though Kili seemed unconvinced, I could feel his mood shift from pride to worry to almost defeat. The longer I transcribed and considered the path I found myself on, the less convinced of my place I was, and the stronger I felt a similar uncertainty and anger vibrating off the dwarf I had walked this path for. I imagined that his thoughts would mirror mine, though I knew he would lean towards fighting with anger rather than the disheartening dread that crept upon me.

I couldn’t help my misgivings. Every turn thus far seemed to bring new risk even if somehow overcome. I would live until the end of days and his life was fleeting. Thranduil had warned me out of spite even if his words were true. Would Kili fight for me and disobey any orders of his King and kin as I had? Perhaps all had been a mistake and Kíli’s infatuation would diminish when obstacles became too great. 

Trying to shake myself out of the melancholy, I devoted my focus wholeheartedly to the texts that Ori had found. They held what to me was common knowledge on some of the herbs and salves the elves of my region used most. Anecdotal evidence accompanied each along with the words I had occasionally heard healers chanting over different injuries or maladies. The elves did not require a great deal of healing for themselves, especially for illness, so many were focused on the healing of men and dwarves.

I was troubled by the torn missing pages that I hoped would have shed more light on the use of elvish medicine on dwarves. I knew the answers to Kíli’s condition would not be found in a single tome in a buried dwarven library, but still I hoped. Perhaps the return of Dain would provide a reason for me to travel west for answers from Lord Elrond. If anyone might possess the knowledge of how all had come to pass, it was one of the wisest of my people. Should Kíli’s condition not continue to improve it would also afford an opportunity for one of the most skilled healers in Arda to have input.

Hours crawled by with the comings and goings of the company I recognized. They came with updates on Dain’s plans for the burial and feast, with clothing for Kíli, and eventually to bring yet another meal. I was amazed at how much the dwarves ate and drank, even if great amounts of food were likely to end up thrown at each other and on the floor.

I kept to myself as they partook in a festive attempt to ward off the sadness that the next morning would bring. The mood and pervasive silence between myself and the others seemed apparent to all when dinner for the small group of us in the healing hall was fraught with questioning side glances and unanswered glares. I saw frustrated gesturing between Kíli and Bofur out of the corner of my eye, but tried to remain indifferent in appearance. I did not understand the unspoken words in their gestures, so gave up on trying.

Kíli took a very short supervised walk after supper to my dismay. Some of the others brought in additional blankets for me to sleep with on a makeshift cot. Again, I saw the frustration on Kíli’s face and knew that my heart mirrored his feelings whether I displayed them or not. I began to wonder if it would be better for all if I left the mountain and allow their lives to progress as it should have without an elf in their midst.

Careful not to make eye contact, I watched from my position at the table as Óin listened again to Kíli’s heart and lungs and removed the poultice to check the wound. I stole a glance when neither were watching to see that the wound had indeed closed and even the scar had diminished. Óin smoothed a small amount of ointment across it and left it to breathe. He knocked his forehead to Kíli’s before leaving for the night.

Bofur came in shortly before his watch at the gate to bring me pillows that had been forgotten. He smiled at me and I simply bowed my head. At the turn of his expression, I knew I must have been poorly masking my feelings. I could tell he wanted to inquire what ailed me so, but he simply patted my shoulder and went over to Kíli.

I’d become lost in thought and only registered heated whispers across the room but no words or their meaning. My focus broke as dread had built and my mental restlessness gave way to pacing. Who knew what dangers we might face if Dain discovered me? Ori was right that Kili fared better with my presence and was healing at a much more rapid rate when I stayed close by. I had to admit that even my own energy seemed to recover. But once he regained his health I did not know what place I would find here. Leaving while they feasted might be best for all.

When I turned again towards the door in my internal debate, I nearly crashed into Kíli as he stood fuming in front of me. It was then I noticed we were alone, though I imagined Dwalin and Bofur were just beyond the doorway. I schooled my face to a level of calmness that I did not feel as I stepped back a foot.

I could tell that he wanted to reach out to me as he took a half step forward and I saw his hands flex. Frustration was rolling off of him like steam.

“Enough, Tauriel. This will not do.”

“Balin is right, Kili. You cannot confront Dain as you might have Thorin Oakenshield.”

He paled ever so slightly at my mention of his uncle and I immediately regretted it.

“So you have an opinion, I see? You could have fooled the rest of us,” he snapped.

“I fear this is not my place and I know little the ways of dwarves.”

Kíli took my path of pacing before me, obviously seething. Whether he realized it or not, it did not escape my notice that his stamina was greatly improved even over the course of the day. When he turned to face me he seemed resolved in his own mind and with every intention of forcing the world to follow suit.

“I will not have you hidden away a secret or imprisoned in our dungeons for all you have done to save me and my kin! I assure you of this.”

“Do you not see that you may not be given that choice?”

“Then I will stand against anyone! Even the king! Let the boar riding buffoon try what he like. I'll show him a son of Durin does not give in without a fight.”

I implored him to see that we could not trust the return of his strength. He had improved before only to relapse and I could not bear the thought. “Kili, you are not fully recovered even if improved. You cannot think to fight him or your people.”

“I have heard enough of being told how I feel and how I am and whether or not I can walk or fight. Is the wound not closed and healed?”

Utterly incensed, he pulled open his shirt as he stepped towards me. I retreated another step, but he grabbed my wrist pulling me back towards him and placed my hand to his chest where the scar had faded to a wide pink line stretching across his heart. Again, it had healed faster than I had expected or hoped. I tentatively ran my thumb across the mark.

“Does my heart not beat stronger than before?” he begged of me in frustration.

It was true that his heart was no longer beating with the faint stutter it had when he first awoke. In fact, it felt as though it thrummed against my palm in harmony and keeping rhythm with my own pulse, matching beat for beat. I shook my head in wonder and disbelief, thinking it my imagination.

“I can feel you, Tauriel. I cannot tell you how or why, but I can feel you. Your thoughts, your feelings.” His grip on my wrist changed and I knew he held the point of my pulse under his fingers, feeling the same rhythm that I did. His other hand brushed my waist.

I could not bring myself to look in his eyes and focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the strong beat of his heart under my hand that echoed within my own veins. I shook my head and tried to put distance between us once more, still afraid of what possible future and obstacles lay before us.

“Do not pull away. I have to bury my uncle. My brother,” he choked on the words and I felt my own breath constrict. “Do not make me do this alone when you have woven yourself into the very fabric of my being.”

“There are so many differences between us. We are worlds apart. And your people, your king may never allow me to remain here.” He kept hold of my wrist even as my thumb traced the fading scar across the center of his chest.

“Then I will leave this mountain behind.”

Though I dared hope our leaving together might mean a future for us, I felt sorrow for both of us that we would both be forced to leave our homes.

“Kíli, no. They are your people.”

“Did you not leave yours? Am I not equal to you or able to stand for what I believe as you can? Why should you be the one to sacrifice all for the both of us?”

I shook my head and sighed. He was right. I had taken on all that I could to spare him suffering and even death.

“I cannot come with you tomorrow.”

He sighed and stepped towards me. I could no longer retreat as my heart was not in it. His knuckles brushed along my cheek.

“Promise me you will not leave, and we will find a way.”

He leaned close to me and touched his forehead to mine. I looked in his eyes and tried my best to believe him. At least I knew that for now, we would face it together. I could only hope it would remain that way.

***

I thought of tomorrow as I watched Kíli sleep. I longed again for the night sky and thought perhaps the burial and feast would afford me the opportunity. I was resting my eyes when Dwalin came in to make sure I was comfortable, rather than pace the hall on the other side of the door. He eyed the young Durin before turning to me.

“He sleeps better with you here.”

I smiled softly and looked to Kíli’s sleeping form. “Óin told me he was fevered and restless when I was not.”

“You say you are not a talented healer, but all evidence to the contrary.”

“I don’t know that it is my work that has revived him.”

He settled into a chair across the table from me and turned one of the books I had been reading to face him. He flipped through the pages and grimaced before pushing it back towards me.

“Tomorrow will not go easy on him.”

I turned to face him and thought again on what Bofur had shared on the ramparts. Kíli was not the only one burying a brother tomorrow, even if his was by blood. Dwalin faced a similar heartbreak.

“Nor for any of you.”

A part of me wanted to reach for his hand and attempt to ease his distress and mistrust, but instead I reached for the pitcher of ale that was left after dinner and poured Dwalin a large tankard.

“I do not clearly remember the loss of my parents as I was a mere child. Thranduil took me in as his own and I fought hard to gain my rank as Captain of his guard. Legolas was the closest to a brother I might ever have known. So I cannot claim to truly know the loss of family or how it might feel.” I glanced again to Kíli as he turned in his sleep and sighed. “But I believe I have felt loss that I thought I would never recover from.”

Dwalin followed my gaze before he looked to me again and shook his head. “You’re not what I’d have expected for an elf.”

“Is that a compliment, Master Dwalin? Or should I take offense?”

He chuckled deeply and genuinely before draining the ale.

“In truth, none of you are as I expected to find dwarves for all the tales told in our halls. You are more kind and honorable. Though I believe your stubbornness has been understated.”

He laughed again and smiled at me. “Aye. Stubborn and proud, but the mettle to back it.”

For a moment we both simply watched Kíli as he slept.

“I know you’ve a mind to leave.” Dwalin poured more ale and passed me the mug. “I think that’d be a mistake.”

Of all the dwarves to be in my corner, Dwalin was the least likely ally I expected to find. I watched him curiously and accepted the ale though it was not something my pallette preferred.

“I think it’d break the lad to lose you, and in truth, you’re at least a good distraction. You may be the only reason he hasn’t broke over his brother. Attached at the hip they were.”

“Though my time to see such was brief, I remember it clearly.”

“Dain may be a bit less reasonable than his cousin, but he’s wise and fair. He’ll see reason one way or another. Most of the company are behind you staying at least for the sake of this one. ”

“You surprise me, Master Dwalin.”

“I’m not blind. I may not have a great care or trust for elves, but if you care as much as you seem to lass, I can learn to live with ye.”


	20. A Late Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading/following and your kudos and comments! I'm thrilled that so many are enjoying this story so far!
> 
> Sadly, my return to grad school is fast approaching. I have no intentions of dropping this story until I see it all the way through, but come middle September updates may be few and far between. My current plan is to leave you on NOT so much of a cliffhanger and with at least some plot points closer to resolved. We have several chapters to go of course, but I won't take a massive break until we're somewhere that isn't torturous to leave off at!!

Kíli wandered slowly in a daze, the company following close behind as they made their way out of the healing halls and towards the burial chambers. He felt uneasy about leaving Tauriel behind but it would have been impossible to not drawn attention with how busy the mountain had become. There were dwarrow rushing along the streets and paths with final preparations for the feast, and several times the group had to step aside when large barrels of ale were rolled by. Bombur, remembering too well his bouncy ride in one in the weeks before the battle, stepped well away as best he could. He couldn’t quite look at a barrel the same way. He groaned with the memory of the spinning.

“Makes me thirsty,” Glóin smirked.

“Aye, me too!” Bofur laughed.

Detouring towards the main gate as Kíli was desperate for a bit of fresh air, they heard the call of a familiar horn in the distance. They all turned to see a convoy of dwarrow flying a banner of a hammer and anvil crested by 7 stars in rich blues and silver inlay.

“By my beard…” Dwalin muttered and ran his hand over his scalp while he stared at the procession.

Balin patted his brother’s shoulder and chuckling, smiled to himself.

“Well, come on now lads, let’s go greet the princess.”

Dwalin used Kíli’s slow movement as an excuse to take his time approaching the arriving group. The rest had cheerfully gone forward to greet relations and friends that had made the journey east from Ered Luin. Several young dwarrow piled out of one of the carts and ran up the road to knock into Bombur’s belly. The smallest of them merely bounced off him and onto his backside as Bombur gathered the rest of his brood for a giant hug.

“I nearly forgot there were so many of them,” Kíli said in astonishment as several more came bounding up to the rotund dwarf.

“14 all in all.”

But Dwalin was too distracted to comment any further as his attention was stolen by another dwarf in the traveling party. When she pushed back the hood of her sky-blue, silver lined traveling cloak, Dwalin stopped short and took a deep breath. Her hair was dark and cascaded in long curls over her shoulders, touched in places with white much like her brother’s. She had the slightest shading of hair down the side of her face and along her chin, but it was soft and faint compared to the thick bristle of Thorin’s that had covered his face. Kíli came to a halt beside him.

“Are you alright, Dwalin?”

The stern warrior cleared his throat and intentionally tried to deepen his reply, glaring at the recovering invalid beside him. “Why wouldn’t I be!? I’m not the sick one, am I?”

“I just -”

“Come on.”

With that, Dwalin gave Kíli a not so gentle shove forwards so he was forced to march more purposefully towards the gathered dwarves engaged in reunion. A smile was clear on the dwarrowdam’s face as she greeted the company that approached and watched Bombur greet his wife and children with enthusiasm, but it faltered the moment she caught sight of her youngest son. 

She had known that this journey would be full of torment and heartbreak and so had tried her best to keep hope from rising too strong within her. Seeing Kíli approach nearly did her in.

Balin had sent a raven to Ered Luin in the weeks prior to let her know of the fate of her brother and sons. He had been careful to prepare her for the worst should Kíli not recover from his wounds, and so she had steeled herself for the loss of all her family while she hastily packed and prepared for the long journey east. Home.

Though she was merely 10 years of age and practically an infant in the way of dwarves when Smaug sacked the city, Dís had some small memories of their eastern home under the mountain. Having spent all the years in exile with her brother and kin in the west, she had long understood Thorin’s need to reclaim what was theirs. Even if it had driven a divide between them when her sons insisted on joining him. When she tried to convince him they were too young, too inexperienced, and too wild. They had years to grow before being thrust into a battle with a dragon and Mahal knew what else on the way.

Successful or otherwise it had been a fool’s quest that she feared would claim those she loved. Bitterly, she was angry she could not tell him that she had been right. The quest had stolen her eldest, wounded her younger near to death, and stolen the rightful king of her people. Her brother. Fierce and loyal and stubborn. No amount of bravery could overcome the stubborn vengeful streak that had grown in the final years in exile before he ventured out to kill a dragon.

She’d have been furious with him if she wasn’t so grieved by the loss. But seeing her son not only awake and walking towards her rekindled the flame of hope she had tried to bank within herself. It was a wonder she did not weep though it would have embarrassed her greatly in the company of her brothers men and warriors. Her brother had taught her a very great deal and so she held fast to the ideal of pride and rank while still valuing all. Respect and strength were valued, not weakness. Even in a dam.

“Amâd,” Kíli said as he approached.

“My son!” She left the group behind and ran the last few strides to him. Unsure of his strength, she laid her forehead to his more gently than she might have otherwise before embracing him tightly. Tears had gathered and she willfully beat them back. When she leaned away, she ran her hand over the stubble on his chin and tsked at him. “Still so short. Ah, but you are here and whole!”

He grunted as she drew him down to embrace him again. “Still a bit rough around the edges, but mostly.”

She inhaled his scent, reminding her of both her sons, and clung tightly, treasuring that she could hold either of them again. “If only I could see you with a proper beard and braids rather than this unkempt mess you insist on! You never let me tame it and never care for it yourself.”

“You know it gets caught in my bow, amâd!”

“Hmph. If only I could have kept you home for how I’ve missed my reckless lad.”

He chuckled and sighed, relieved that he had yet see his mother cry. “You’d have me in your pocket if you could.”

She stepped back and glared at him. “And what of it!? I’ve every right to want my sons safe.”

As if they both caught her mention of his brother, they sobered in their near playful banter and straightened. So much was said between them in their eyes, the depth of sorrow each held for brother, for son. Catching the sudden break and tension in their reunion, Dwalin came forward and bowed his head.

“Princess.”

“Oh cut that out, Dwalin. You’re practically family, and brother to me!”

She reached over to his shoulders and knocked foreheads with him, causing an immediate blush to rise on his neck that only Balin and Kíli were close enough to notice. Kíli looked with confusion towards the warrior’s brother who was chuckling quietly to himself before interrupting their brief greeting.

“You’ve arrived a bit later than you’d hoped, so there isn’t much time to really settle you in beforehand,” Balin said to Dís as his brother recovered. “I’m sorry there’s not more time for you to spend with them. Dain already felt we had waited long past.”

Solemnly, Dís nodded. “Seeing them at all is more than I might have hoped. As for Dain… I’m sure he’d like to fit the crown upon his head that much faster as well. He forgets it isn’t his for the taking.”

He led her in through the gates with Dwalin and Kíli following, Glóin pointing out the structures and telling some of their journey’s grander tales to his son, and Bombur and his brood following behind with the rest of the company and the other returning dwarrows.

Dís nodded to Balin as they discussed arrangements for where she might settle and what she could do to help the rebuilding of their capital city. Kíli squinted at Dwalin.

“What was that about?”

“Hmm?” Dwalin kept his eyes forward on his brother and the princess as they resumed their walk towards the burial chamber. He was still distracted, and though the flush had receded, he still itched beneath his collar. Looking in her eyes was like looking into Thorin’s. He felt all his loyalty and failure all at once. But there was more if he admitted it. Which he didn’t. He wouldn’t.

“Dwalin, why is the crown not Dain’s?”

His forehead and brow crinkled at the question. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough, lad. Nothing to think about just yet or my brother would’ve told us.”

Kíli wasn’t so sure he believed as much, but let it go as everyone grew quiet upon approaching the doors to the funeral chamber. This would be the last time he would lay eyes upon his beloved uncle and brother before they were entombed forever in stone beneath the mountain. He wished for the strength and compassion a particular elf might lend him at his side.


	21. Burying the Fallen

The light from a thousand torches filled the cavernous spaces leading to where Thorin and Fíli were laid before entombment. All the dwarves that had returned to the mountain since the battle stood by as the company of eleven and Dís passed one last time by their fallen kin, with the princess slowly leading the way. Dwalin and Bofur stood beside Kíli as the last of their party to traverse the platform.

He swallowed audibly as he approached Thorin’s tomb and closed his eyes to steel himself as best he could at seeing his proud and fierce uncle cold and gone from the world. Though not the memory he would choose to relive in days to come, his last of Thorin was in the meeting of their eyes as his brother was thrown from the ledge of Ravenhill. An understanding that they would fight to the death if they had to. Together.

Now, he felt like a traitor that he lived when his uncle, the strongest of them all, had fallen. How could he possibly face the future knowing that of the sons of the Durins, the weakest was allowed to remain. Hadn’t he always been just that? He would give all to go back and mind his uncle and brother better, be better.

Dwalin simply stared in disbelief much as he had in the weeks prior. Each moment his eyes passed over Thorin’s form, he prayed to Mahal that he might wake as Kíli had. He imagined him roaring to life and wildly swinging his sword as if still waging war. But each time he found himself beside his fallen brother the room was silent, and Thorin’s eyes remained cold and closed.

Bofur grasped both Kíli and Dwalin’s shoulders, squeezing them in compassion. His elation at Kíli's waking had eventually helped bank the tears he had spent in the weeks after the battle.

Kíli sniffed, refusing to acknowledge the tears that were building and let Bofur gently guide him on past his uncle. He began to tremble and feared his legs would take him no further as he saw the golden crown of hair before him.

“Fí…” he whispered as he shook his head and his eyes filled.

As he approached, he grasped the edge of the stone on which his brother lay to hold himself up, his knuckles going white. Had he registered that Bofur and Dwalin stood beside him, he might have been grateful. As it was, all he could see was his brother and a darkness that isolated and surrounded them both. All he could feel was cold.

_How could you leave me behind? We were supposed to go together, brother. Years from now._

No amount of preparation or cleaning had hidden the bruising and there was the tiniest remnant of blood from Fíli’s ear. He willed his brother to open his eyes, that it had all been a nightmare or a cruel joke. But he laid still and unmoving while Kíli trembled between despair and fury. One hand for support on the stone, his other grasped his brother’s as he begged Mahal to hear him, wishing he could always be at his brother’s side.

_You told me I had a promise to keep but what of his, Mahal!?! He was supposed to be beside me! Why would you save me for a life without him?_

He bowed his head as hot tears gathered and fell, devastation screaming inside him. Steeling himself once more he looked upon Fíli’s face, forever frozen in his youth and never to see the throne that would have one day been his.

Squeezing his brother’s hand tightly for the final time, he stood straight as he memorized Fíli’s face.

“Sleep sound in stone, my brother. And forever dream of the mountain overhead.”

Dwalin grasped Kíli's elbow tightly as he stepped away from his brother weakly. It was then he saw his mother standing beside Balin. She stood fiercely proud and seemed to be have a backbone of steel. He wondered at how the grief did not overwhelm her as it did him. He angrily wiped the tears off his face on his sleeve as the three turned to join the rest of their company and his mother. Grief was waging war with a deeper anger within him. Balin’s voice echoed through the chamber, reverberating off the mountain walls.

“The King is dead. Long live the king!”

“Long live the king!”

Thousands of voices strong, the cheer rang in unison through the mountain as Kíli shuddered in silence.

* * * * *

It was a calculated risk that all dwarves in the mountain but those tasked to guard the gate would be attending the ceremony in the burial chamber. I passed as silent as shadow inside the secret passage that would lead me to an outcropping on the side of the mountain.

Nori had slipped me a small piece of parchment outlining how I might find my way there. From all accounts, the feast would last much of the evening into night and it would afford me a short time outdoors that I desperately needed.

I had felt an intense pull towards the burial chamber as I stole through the empty halls of the mountain, shortly before the dwarves rallied. It took all my will to not turn and run towards the despair and rage I felt even from so far. It was as though a tether was being stretched to the point of tearing. My heart ached in my chest and felt ripped within me as I forced myself to quicken my pace, desperate for air.

It was as the cheer rang out that I found the passageway outside, careful to ensure the door did not close solidly behind me. Halfway down the short but wide tunnel I could smell the crisp air flowing off the mountain and over the river running from its peak. My eyes adjusted to the brightness of the setting sun as I took in the sight of the forest in the distance.

It looked so small and remote, so far and inconsequential even to my elven eyes. Smaller than ever it would be in my memory.

The ache that had tightened my heart did not lessen as I had hoped. It simply squeezed until I fought for breath and leaned against the cool rock face. I remembered. I remembered this feeling of hopelessness so well that it felt as if it might envelop me again.

I could see Ravenhill from this vantage point and was flooded with more of what had transpired. It was as though pieces of a half remembered dream were sliding into place. The emotion that had swamped me that day had been first to return when I laid eyes on Kíli, and the rest had followed steadily over the past week.

_The dwarves will be slaughtered._

And wasn't that what had happened? The scar upon Kíli's chest would forever be a reminder of the blow that should have taken the last son of Durin from me. The scars of my own were deeper than flesh could reveal. I had yet to feel whole again since that fateful day at Ravenhill.

Though so much of my memory had been gradually returning when I took the time to rest, there was still a greater piece missing. Being close to Kíli was the only thing that banked that feeling of incompleteness. But I could sense the lack of something I could not name, which held a lingering dread over me that darkness would fall and I would fade into shadow.

A horn sounded from the mountain and was answered by a return call from Dale. I presumed this was in honor of Thorin and hoped that Kíli would retain enough fortitude for the day.

I knew as time saw the sun fall in the west that my time was short to remain unnoticed, so I turned back to the tunnel that would lead me to an unknown future. I listened carefully at the door I had left slightly ajar, near holding my breath as I stepped back inside the mountain. Either more time had passed than I accounted for, or the dwarves were quick to begin their revelry.

Music and cheering echoed through the chambers from the great feasting hall. For all the apparent mirth, I could feel the underpinning of sorrow over those that had been lost. Most prominent was the feeling I now recognized from Kíli. I hesitated to return and wait, turning for a moment towards the din and hoping that he might not partake in the festivities if his heart was not in it. Perhaps there was a way for me to check on him without anyone seeing me.

But that mere moment of hesitation cost me, as a pair of guards just relieved from duty were en route to the feast themselves. I raised my hands slowly in surrender though instinct had me contemplating the blades on my hip when I saw them heft their axes and rush towards me shouting in Khuz-dul. I only hoped the new king would live up to Dwalin’s opinion.

“ _Inkhith id-utrâd_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul Translation:
> 
> "Inkhith id-utrâd!" (Summon the guard!)


	22. A Feast Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel is discovered and challenged.

Kíli brooded over his tankard as dwarves all around the hall licked their fingers, drank their ale, and shouted and laughed with one another. There were many dwarves reaching and grabbing over and around him for their favored pies and roasts that filled the tables. Not a drop of ale was spilt even in the scuffle.

Bombur belched across from him and grinned widely when Bifur chucked a roll only to be caught and quickly inhaled. Bombur’s brood were running like feral things through the hall and snatching cakes and sweets wherever they could. Dwalin and Balin were arm wrestling at the edge of the long table at which the group sat, just off to the side from the long center platform on which Dain and his closest dwarrow feasted. Dís also held a place at the long table with the king and conversed with him amicably. 

Bofur pounded his feet on the table and danced as he sang, “...Under the Mountain dark and tall. The Worm of Dread is slain and dead, and ever so our foes shall fall!”

The room exploded with applause and cheers as more food flew from table to table. He bowed and lept from the tabletop down besides Kíli, slapping him hard on the back after he drained his mug. Everyone was reasonably drunk and forgetting their woes but for Kíli.

“Buck up, lad. Thorin and your brother will stay in your heart, and live in our songs. They’ll never be forgotten.”

Kíli looked up at Bofur’s warm and kind face and sighed. “I’ve never known a day with him. Either of them.”

He frowned at that but nodded. “Aye. Can’t say it’s an easy thing. Time won’t change it, but you learn to live with it. You’ll do them proud and honor them well. Yer days aren’t over yet, and you’ve got a pretty elf-maiden warming your sheets.”

“Bofur, they’ll never let her stay.”

“What do ya mean lad?” He grabbed for a chunk of bread and began piling meat on it.

“You know how Thorin was about elves. Do you really think my mother will be any better? Or Dain? Or anyone!?”

Bofur laughed. “You might be right about they’re being of the same mind when it comes to the fair folk. But mothers love their sons. If her son is loved, even if it is by an elf, I imagine that’d make a mother happy and she’d love who loves her son. Elf or other.”

“You forget the cruelty of mothers then and how they  _ always know best _ for us!”

“Oh if there’s truth in that!” Bofur filled his mug once more.

“And beyond that, what of Dain? I’ve heard several times now he is not meant to be king.”

In truth, it hadn’t come to mind for him as he’d only been focused on being grateful the young dwarf still lived. His focus had been on Kíli. Knowing it would be an uneasy journey for him and Tauriel, he’d tried to be a friend where he could. He hadn’t been privy to any of the meetings Balin had attended with Dain or any of the other council, so whether this was a discussion or something being swept under the rug, he was not sure.

“I couldn’t say, but it won’t do you right to worry about it now. You’re not fit to it yet anyways. But once ye are, I’m sure you’ve as much claim as Dain or more if that’s what you want.”

Kíli looked horrified. “Me!? No! It was meant for my uncle, for my brother. I couldn’t...” But the thought seeded itself anyway.

“You might, but who’s to say. Hopefully ye won’t have ta. Relax and drink up. We might mourn their loss but we still have ta celebrate the mighty Durin’s and tell their tale. Dain’ll be wanting tales of them both and you’ll be the best to tell them. Get a good drunk on lad, and it won’t hurt so deep. Laughter will help more than tears.”

Taking his advice to heart, and attempting to alleviate the heavy weight he worried might crush him, Kíli drained another mug of ale and let Bofur pour him more. He wiped an errant tear from under his eye and laughed as Nori and Dori tackled their youngest brother in a drunken heap. Bifur was slapping at Bombur’s hand as he tried to poke at the empty space on his forehead where the little axe used to reside.

“At least I’ve got you crazy lot,” Kíli sighed and smiled, his heart feeling somewhat renewed when his mother caught his eye and smiled at him as well. Perhaps he would attempt to join the festivities after all. His tankard was drained and filled several times over.

But the wild noise and music that had filled the hall seemed to come to an abrupt stop after a time as whispers, gasps, and rude shouts replaced the merriment. He stood to try and see whether Dain had called for attention but Dain’s attention was focused on the hall’s doorway. Bofur began swatting him on the shoulder wildly just as he turned his attention that way himself to see fiery red hair standing well above the rest of the crowd. Time froze.

“Tauriel!” he shouted and leapt up on the bench as he tried to burst over the table and through the crowd. He never saw the look of shock his mother turned his direction or the confusion of some of the surrounding parties. Bofur and Dwalin snagged him, though he managed to make it several feet and knock over a couple drunken dwarrow before they held him back. All he could see was Tauriel, and all he could feel was fear. He kept his eyes on her as the guard brought her towards Dain.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

My weapons had been stripped and confiscated, my person rudely patted down and searched. I would not have responded to the jeers and hurled food even if I wanted to. Though I did duck my head to narrowly avoid a roll once or twice. As it was, either wrist was restrained by dwarves on either side of me as they marched me through the feasting hall. While some less than savory taunting was shouted my direction, gasps and whispers were the more common reaction of those in the midst of their revelry. The music had ceased as murmuring and insults swept the room. I so desperately wanted to seek out a familiar face, but kept my eyes trained straight towards the center of the long table at the head of the room. Even when I heard my name.

There sat Dain, crown upon his head, and overflowing robes of leather and fur. He was gnawing on a large drumstick of meat with his other hand gesticulating wildly, sloshing mead over the rim of his tankard. One of the dwarves to his side nodded towards me and the guards who had secured me, drawing the king’s attention as the hall quieted into whispers.

“Well, look what we have here!! And I thought we ran off your fancy lot weeks ago! Or does your pretty little king want another go?” Dain laughed and had the hall following suit with more roaring jeers and hurled bread and other items.

I stood motionless and showing nothing as he slammed his ale on the table and rose to walk around it and address me directly. I heard through the din several chairs hurriedly sliding across the floor and a commotion in the far corner of the room, but kept my eyes on the king.

“Who might you be? Has that pointy eared princess sent you for his jewels? I don’t see an army with ye!” 

When I did not speak, he stepped down off the platform on which the long table stood. On a subtle nod, the dwarves at my side tried to shove me to a kneeling position so I would not tower over their leader. It was at this point I quickly yanked my hands from theirs and stood tall even as several dwarves joined the guard and many axe heads were pointed at me, against me, from all directions.

“I am Tauriel, formerly of the Woodland Realm, and I was not sent by Thranduil, Lord Dain. I am here alone.”

He prowled in front of me briefly, sizing me up as the guard maintained their position surrounding me. 

“Formerly, is it? And why precisely would I start trusting an elf today? If I recall, your faithless king tried to stand between me and the very kin we buried just wee hours ago!”

“But you do not recall all. Did we not also fight at your side against the orcs and fell beasts in defense of the mountain?”

Dain bristled and laughed. “OH aye, to save yer own hides before trying to run off with yer tails between your legs!!”

The commotion that had begun in the corner of the room had grown again in volume as a group of dwarves wrestled amongst each other. Dain turned and growled in their direction.

“Oy, you lot! What are ye about!?”

When his back was turned to me, I spared a glance in the direction of the noise, feeling the need to avoid the uncomfortable piercing glare of an oddly feminine dwarf at the long table before me with familiar eyes. Many of the dwarves who had gathered to witness whatever Dain might do with an elven interloper had parted for him to see what was going on. It was then that I saw Kíli fighting to free himself from Dwalin, Glóin, and Bofur as they held him back.

“Let her go!” he growled.

Dwalin had him locked in a tight grip as he struggled to rush to the center of the room. Balin was trying to reason with him and very obviously not being heard, while the rest of the company was trying to block him slightly, Bombur being the most successful at standing in his way.

When our eyes met, he seemed to stop fighting as fiercely even if his face remained somewhat contorted in panic and anger. Dwalin looked over his shoulder and cursed under his breath as he let go of Kíli and stood straight before their king. The group quieted down with a large amount of elbowing and grumbling between them.

Now the eldest of the lot since Thorin’s death, Balin stepped forward. He was ever the diplomat of his rambunctious group.

“Your majesty, if I may,” he said as he bowed before Dain, motioning with his hand at his back for the others to follow his lead. “The lad here, and the rest of us, know this particular elven-maid.”

“Oh! Do ye now!? Well perhaps you might shed some light on our unexpected visitor!”

Balin had the wisdom to look sheepish for a moment as he admitted to Dain the truth. “In truth, she’s not unexpected to all of us.”

Balin followed Dain back towards the center of the hall to where I now had been more forcefully bent to kneeling under guard, the rest of the group I knew just on his heel. Balin made eye contact ever so briefly with what I now could see was a female dwarf at the table. She seemed like she was trying to stare holes into me even as Balin looked apologetic. At the moment though, I hadn’t the inclination to question the exchange as Kíli had such a look of distress on his face that I had to fight the urge to merely knock back the guards and go to him. I felt my heart begin to race as his did.

Dwalin held a strong hand on his shoulder and Bofur stood to his other side speaking quietly to him. I hoped that for all they had told me of Dain, they might keep Kíli’s reckless nature at bay to avoid wrath for stepping out of line. While I knew he still suffered some physical pain, I knew the look on his face was more fear and anger than anything else.

“I believe we still owe her a debt that should not be repaid by mistrust, Lord Dain. She healed Kíli, sister son of Thorin, when he was struck by a morgul arrow.”

A quiet gasp that perhaps only my elven ears could hear came from the dwarrowdam behind the king. She stepped from behind the table and slowly made her way to stand behind the king and just slightly apart from the rest. I wondered at who this new arrival was, having never seen her or any female dwarf before. But her eyes. Her eyes were so familiar as they bore into me.

The king looked at me suspiciously. “Who all witnessed this? We can’t take  _ his _ word for it if he’s under the she-elf’s magic.”

“I am under no spell!” Kíli raged at the same moment as my voice echoed loudly through the hall.

“I am no witch!” I yelled.

The female dwarf hissed in his direction and glared at me once more before both Óin and Bofur spoke up that they had witnessed my healing skills in Laketown.

“Fíli, Mahal bless and keep him in his halls, was there with us. With Kíli’s leg bein’ what it was after being shot through with a poisoned shaft, Thorin worried for him what with taking back the mountain and battling a dragon of course. So the four of us were there, wondering what to do about it all, Kíli groaning away and carrying on, when this lass came charging in just as the orcs were upon us. Now see, I’d run off to fetch some kingsfoil, aye, and there she was having just beaten back the orcs that she snatched up the weed and went about healing his leg. I’ll never rightly know how but she got to removing the poison, and I’ll tell ya it was sure a sight to see.”

Óin was listening with his trumpet and nodding along with Bofur’s telling. “A privilege to witness I said then, and I still say now.”

“She got us out of the fire and wreckage when Smaug was slain and I’m sure had something to do with the fact that the elves didn’t abandon the whole lot of us completely.”

I took this opportunity to impart what had come to pass in the ruins of Dale without completely betraying my kind for seeming dishonorable at leaving battle. “I returned from Gundabad and confronted Lord Thranduil to remain, knowing a trap was set with forces from the north. I went to Ravenhill when the hobbit said Thorin and his kin had gone in pursuit of the orcs’ leader.”

For a moment, Dwalin seemed to stare thoughtfully at the dwarrowdam before sighing. With a hand still firmly planted on Kíli’s chest, he finally spoke up. “It’s true. She fought as hard as any of us by our sides on Ravenhill. And I’ve never seen someone outside of kin mourn the loss of a dwarf as this lass did when we thought Kíli gone to Mahal.”

Dain paced back towards me and hummed. “An honorable elf? Fighting with and  _ for _ dwarves!?” He laughed, “That’ll be the day!”

I could not help the glare as it crossed my face. I understood the animosity generally held between our races, but the drive towards blatant insults seemed uncalled for after the words spoken on my behalf.

“Let - me -  _ go! _ ” Kíli yelled and angrily shook off the remaining hands on him. “She’s more honorable than half the dwarves I’ve known! You’d be burying me alongside my kin today if not for her.”

“Careful lad,” Dwalin muttered under his breath.

“ _ Kíli!! Enough! _ ” Dís glared at her son, harshly called his name in hopes of quieting him. He barely took note of her as she approached. She continued in an angry whisper but again was unheeded. “What is  _ wrong _ with you!?”

“I’ll not stand by as you insult the one responsible for saving my life more times than I can count!”

“Well if she’s as honorable as you say, she should have no problem proving as such.”

Only the Ironfoot who knew Dain best seemed to understand as they nodded in agreement and cheered.

“But how?” Balin questioned.

“Any warrior proven in battle, even if they  _ are _ an elf, should have no problem proving such by first blood.”


	23. A Sound of Swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short thank you to all my readers and commenters for their support. I'm thrilled so many of you are enjoying this story.
> 
> I do want to make a note here in regards to my characterisation as well as how I treat canon that I touched upon in a comment on the last update. While the fact that there is a Kili x Tauriel story AT ALL implies I am following the movie canon, I'd like to clarify that while I DO use that, I rely more heavily on Tolkien. Much of the background for the story and the personalities of the characters come from not just The Hobbit, but also from LOTR and The Silmarillion, as well as from many of the posthumously published works and collections by his son (I'd say all of them but I'm missing a volume or 2 in my collection). It's an incredible world to draw from with a lot of colourful history that was condensed (albeit in an extended format) into film. I have read all of these on many occasions and while I would never claim to be an expert, I feel confident in my interpretation. Not everyone will or should or has to agree with my interpretation. But try to realize that nothing I am writing is wholly arbitrary. Actions and words and plot is how it is for a reason that I feel is true to my story as well as the original characters. I am doing what I can to merge both canons and overlap as best I can to give them both credit where it is due and still be as true to the original author's vision as possible. All of course while diverging from Tolkien some and yet as little as possible. It's tiny little tight rope I'm trying to walk!
> 
> More than I intended to say, but there we go. Now... let's see what Dwalin does with Tauriel, and what Kíli finally does about it all...

Though many resumed their feasting, conversation had drastically changed to the topic of what had just taken place. Many of those within the mountain had come after the battle had been hard won and so they had not witnessed firsthand the devastation incurred upon their kin. Their mirth was easily expressed in comparison to the battle weary. The overwhelming consensus was that the she-elf was arrogant, not to be trusted, and should simply be sent packing.

The prejudice for elves would not be easily overlooked for any who had not stood beside them in the fight for Erebor. Even many that had were intent on holding their grudge since they’d been prepared to fight each other until the orcs and trolls and other beasts had descended. The honor of elves would always be questioned even when they’d joined against that common foe. Because while the memories of the elves persisted, that of the dwarves was obscured in histories and legends long lost to truth.

While many dwarves knew of the greed and madness that had clutched the family of Thrór and Thráin, they knew not how closely their actions against the Elvenking of Mirkwood mirrored those in days long forgotten. Pride and greed had blinded many into a mutual distrust since the First Age; for the actions and lies of a few had triggered war and forever warped the relationship of the races forever.

That Thorin had begun to feel the effects of dragon sickness was not common knowledge, though rumors had begun to whisper that they suspected Thorin and his nephews would have succumb to the greed if given the chance. The line of Durin was strong and revered, but long had some worried there was a weakness for gold and greed beyond the normal lust of other dwarrow. The outburst from Kíli over an elf within their mountain seemed to only fuel the fire that something had always been wrong with that particular son of Durin.

Dain had motioned carelessly to send “the elf” away to the dungeons until the next morning when he stated we would draw first blood to see just how valiant and laudable I was. To his way of thinking, testing my fighting prowess would at the least demonstrate if I was worthy of remaining in the ranks of the mountain and strong enough to defend Erebor. Kíli moved to stand in front of me and looked as though he’d cut down anyone who towards me. But before they could suffer through another enraged outburst, Dwalin begrudgingly stepped forward and swore that he would take me under his charge and guard.

“You all may trust her, but I don’t. Not yet. Still... you’re a mighty warrior, Master Dwalin. So be it.” Dain turned to walk back to his seat at the long table but then pointed at Dwalin and roared, “But it’ll be your head if she steps a pretty little pinky out of line!”

Dwalin grunted and glared viciously at Kíli, hoping to silence him, and then at me. He snatched my elbows after swatting away the guards and hauled me to my feet. Once standing, I sneered at the guards that had held me and batted away Dwalin’s grip once my hands were unbound. My eyes met Kíli’s for only a brief moment before Dwalin turned me towards the door.

“Go on then.” He grumbled and nearly shoved me back out the way we had entered.

He marched me quickly through the mountain, past the Front Gate along the broad paved road alongside the river. We went down several levels of stairways and through corridors I had not been before, with Dwalin pointing to indicate direction when I came to any junction and turned to ask. I kept my mouth shut and spoke not a word as the look on his face made it appear as though he would boil over any moment. I stopped in my tracks when I came to a large archway that opened into a wide circular hall.

The soft sand covered space spread out beneath vaulted ceilings with many shafts letting light flow in from above. Another archway opened on the other side of the circle, flanked by dwarven statues, axes held aloft and locked together, crossing above the entryway.

Dwalin moved past me as I looked at the carved row of bench seating that circled the edges of the dirt space. Having taken down an axe and a sword from a weapons on a rack midway through the room, he threw the sword to me unannounced. I caught it by the handle as I turned to face him.

“I will not continue to be pushed around by you or anyone else! Prisoner or otherwise.”

“Oh, is that so, lass? And ye know exactly how to best the Ironfoot, do ye?”

“I am sure I can outwit a dwarf in battle,” I growled.

“Aye, and my hard head is protecting rocks.” He knocked on his head with his fist and began to pace in a circle around me. I turned to track him. “Pride will be your weakness if you think it’s yer strength.”

He charged and I adjusted my stance to raise my sword against him, but he ducked and rolled, knocking my legs out from underneath me with the long axe handle. I landed hard on my back and though I might have quickly righted myself, he was instantly above me swinging his axe. I hefted my blade to block him and held it steady against the head of his axe as I caught my breath.

“Faster than we look!”

“Why are you doing this?”

“You’ve not seen how he’ll fight. He’ll fight dirty.”

I pushed back hard and lept to my feet as he took a step back, circling slowly. I removed my long sleeved outer jacket and tossed it aside.

“Why would you help me at all? You have made it clear more than once you want me nowhere near this mountain, near Kíli.”

“I don’t wish ye any harm either! And it doesn’t matter much what I want. Even if it did, won’t matter much what _anyone_ wants when the lad gets his strength back.”

As he swung towards me in a testing arch, I parried and allowed him to gain a step closer. I imagined the fighting style of dwarves was relatively straightforward and all about brute force and brawn. I was only partially right.

“Why not?”

“Oh, I imagine we’ll have a young and stubborn Durin on the throne once he does. Then none will get much of a say in the way of things. Lad’ll do what he likes. He’ll be just as reckless as king as any other time.”

I paused and dropped my guard in a moment of shock. “What?”

Dwalin rushed me and barreled into my waist before grabbing the back of my collar and as if to bash his own forehead to mine. He stopped only an inch away.

“And _that_ would be the end of ye.”

I stumbled back, indignantly straightening my tunic once he let me go.

“I was distracted.”

“Well, that’s the point now, isn’t it?”

“What did you mean?”

He ignored me. “Dain’s head is harder than mine. Give ‘im a chance and he’ll knock you all the way back that spider infested forest of yours.”

I tried to refocus but was still stuck on what he had said. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”

“Aye, well who else would be king?” he asked, as if the point was obvious. “But you need more practice. Less talk.”

With that he came at me swinging and I planted my feet, refusing to retreat. The sound of his axe meeting my blade rang through the hall.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Kíli paced outside the feasting hall fuming. Adrenaline was coursing through him. It had taken more restraint than he cared for not to square off with Dain in the hall. For a moment he’d seriously considered it, as it seemed his strength was returning exponentially faster when Tauriel had been brought into the hall.

“You’ll wear through the stone at this rate lad. We don’t need another mining shaft.” Bofur rolled his eyes at being ignored and plopped down on the bench flanking the hall doorway to light his pipe. “Ye can’t exactly go running off to - where would you even go, anyway? No matter. He’ll see reason, sure enough. Calm down.”

Kíli had a million thoughts blazing through his mind and several responses. He held his tongue and continued imagining all the ways he might skewer Dain for his insults. In addition to Dain, at this point he didn’t know what to make of Dwalin any longer. What did he mean by taking Tauriel away? He’d thought Dwalin was finally beginning to accept Tauriel’s presence, but doing Dain’s bidding might mean otherwise. Obviously there was still unfinished business that he had to deal with. But would he have to always worry that his own company of friends were against him?

When one of the doors opened to release all the raucous noise of the revelry inside, Kíli spun on his heels ready to battle whoever might now be coming to order him about. He’d been emblazoned with energy and more strength than he’d felt in days when he was faced with watching Tauriel under threat. For a moment the fury was replaced by surprise when it was his mother who he found himself with toe to toe. He deflated ever so slightly at the stern look on her face.

“You may be too old for me to take across my knee, but you’re still my son. So sit yerself down.”

His ears went red and though he knew better than to question his mother, he had reached his threshold. “Why? Why does everyone seem to think I am still a child to be told what to do and how to act?”

Dis snagged his ear between her fingers and tugged as he went wide eyed and yelped. Bofur couldn’t even laugh he was so surprised and merely shot off his seat and stepped well out of the line of fire as Dis twisted Kíli to precisely where she wanted him. He sat swiftly, gingerly rubbing his ear once she released it.

“Ma! -”

“Shut it! You blustered about enough, embarrassing yourself and the rest of us. So you’ll hear me or I’ll remind you of what happened the time I caught you and yer brother not yet of an age and sneaking in with the sun.”

He remained silent, staring at her and her pointed finger incredulously. 

“What’s gotten into you!? Did you put away an entire barrel to speak as you did? He’s kin and in charge right now. You’re not going to win anyone over by fighting your kin for the sake of an elf!”

Again he found himself with a multitude of things he wanted to say. He hadn’t imagined he’d be faced with his mother for months. He had scarce been able to think beyond what was right in front of him since he first awoke from his stranded shore, but he’d known she wouldn’t be easily swayed. Kíli had long assumed that growing up alongside Thorin and hearing his loathing for elves had planted plenty of seeds in her for prejudice. Had he paid more attention, he might have found that while Dis was not the greatest admirer of elves, she did not feel the blame and hatred for them that her brother had. 

Beyond the surprise of his mother’s presence and tame tongue lashing, he’d been too busy wallowing to even consider what might happen if Tauriel was found out. He simply reacted. If Fíli were with him, perhaps he’d think more clearly instead of acting. Fí was always the person grabbing his hand before he could run off without a thought. But that anchor for him was gone and the loss sat heavy like a stone lodged in his throat. He had to swallow it away before he could speak. Kíli knew it’d take a lot more than a few words to convince her of Tauriel’s healing skills. Perhaps for now playing drunk and reckless was an easier tactic until he could think straight and get his pulse under control.

“I must have. I think I’ve a right and a reason for a few. Bofur’s the one who kept pouring!”

“Aye, because you’re not old enough to pour for yourself?”

She turned and eyed the lingering dwarf. Bofur coughed on his pipe and pointed at himself then looked around and over his shoulder, all innocence. He shrugged when he realized no one stood beside him and quickly retreated inside the hall to rejoin the drinking himself.

“Go back inside, amad.” He stood and smiled. “I should go rest. It’s been a long day with more activity than I’ve done in weeks.” He forced a yawn to prove his point.

Dis huffed out a breath and leaned her forehead to her son’s. “Get to bed then. I’ll be to see you tomorrow. Maybe some of your things I brought from home will help set you right.”

He watched her walk back inside and for a moment sat alone again in the empty expanse. The noise from the hall still seeped through but otherwise the cavernous streets seemed eerily quiet. It was not a lie that he was tired, but the ruling feeling over him was anxiety and the desire for a fight. The party mood had been with him for all but a flicker of a moment and quickly stolen away. His heart had tripped over itself when he saw Tauriel brought into the hall, and it had nearly stalled when Dain approached her. Kíli didn’t have the faith in Dain that others did, having little firsthand knowledge of his uncle’s Ironfoot cousin.

He rubbed his hands over his face and decided he might as well do as he said and try to rest. It was hard to imagine how he’d ever sleep though, not knowing where Dwalin may have taken Tauriel. As he walked down the quiet corridors, the sounds of the revelry receded until he was quite alone with his thoughts. His mind wandered as he did, meandering the pathways that brought him here.

As he recalled the descent from joy to sorrow of their journey to Erebor, he continually found his thoughts stalling on the shores of the Long Lake. His brother was waiting in the boat, as he waited in the Halls with their kin. The images of Tauriel and Mahal seemed to blend as did words of promises, stones and stars. He stopped short with an ache in his chest, circling the meaning of such duality and wondering if his meeting with Mahal was in fact just a fever dream in the delirium of near-death. Perhaps he had simply imagined it as his thoughts circled memories while struggling on the brink.

The sound of clashing metal brought him out of his reverie. For a moment, he listened to nothing but silence, believing he imagined the sound as he could think that no one would be out of the feasting hall. But there it rang again, echoing up from the level below. Not thinking of possible danger or the fact that he was unarmed, he sought out the noise only to find himself at the edge of the sparring arena. It was the second time that his heart stuttered and pounded in his chest since the feast. For a moment it felt as though all the blood in his body had vanished; it flooded back with fury.

There, rolling over in the dirt and regaining her feet, was Tauriel. Fresh light bruises marked her arms and dirt mixed with a faint bloody scratch along her collarbone. To his absolute shock, rushing at her with the point of a broadsword was Dwalin.

It was again a moment where thought might have proven beneficial, but he could form none as he simply acted. Grabbing the nearest weapon from the rack near the entrance, he rushed headlong into the middle of them and swung upward with all his force, sending Dwalin’s sword flying as they crashed into each other like battering rams. Kíli stood his ground as Dwalin staggered backwards and stammered in shock.

“What are… Kíli… where did… I could have killed ye! What were you thinking!??”

He took long strides forward with the blade pointed to Dwalin’s throat. A red-hazed rage drove him. “I’d ask you the same, Master Dwalin. You aim to harm the person who above all else has saved my life more times than I dare admit, has cared for me and has my heart, and who is under your charge! _Bintarg rûkhuz!”_

“Now, just watch who you call beardless. I’m only tryin’ ta help the lass.”

But Kíli advanced on him, incensed.

“ _Ashrâgul durh!_ ”

His hands raised, Dwalin continued to retreat until his back was against stone. He knew by the look upon the young Durin’s face that there was no swaying him, not words that would come from him anyway. He glanced to the one person he knew Kíli would listen to... ...

 

“Kíli…” I said, placing my hand upon his shoulder. “I am fine, Kíli. Put your sword down. I am in no danger.”

I could feel him vibrating beneath my palm. A hot energy rippled through him, the sword held steady while the hand fisted at his side trembled. His gaze was fixed on Dwalin even when he answered me.

“I’ve been ordered about long enough, and you’ve been treated too poorly for my liking. He’s laid hands on you too many times for me to let this go any longer.”

“Kíli. It is not as it seems. He is trying to _help_.” I stroked my hand down his arm but he shook me off.

“ _Help?_ ” Motioning with his sword as he stepped back, he let Dwalin drop his hands. “Pick up your sword.”

“You don’t want to do this lad.” He sidestepped towards where his sword had fallen, keeping his eyes on the furious dwarf. Gingerly reaching down to pick up the blade, he shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt ye.”

“You’d have to land a blow to do that.” Kíli’s eyes flashed with fire and his warning was low and deceptively calm. “I’d like to see you try.”

With that, Kíli came at him swinging. He retreated as much as Kíli advanced. Again Dwalin blocked a blow, but it was strong enough to send him staggering. How was this the same dwarf that had earlier that day seemed weary to the core? He struggled to match the force of the attack, their swords locked against each other. He was shocked enough to lose his footing when Kíli’s fist plowed into his jaw, whipping his head around. Dwalin saw stars as he stumbled back.

“Enough!” I demanded.

Throwing his sword away, Kíli gripped Dwalin by the collar and dragged him up to face him. Every ounce of anger and grief coursed through him, feeding him with emotion and energy. “Never touch her again.”

He shoved him away and turned to face me, beads of sweat collecting on his brow. His pulse was still racing as mine was, threatening to choke me. The worst of his anger slowly dissipated as he stepped towards me. He seemed to have exorcised a great deal of his frustration on Dwalin and it left him raw, exhausted. I reached out as though to help him even though he shook his head that he was perfectly alright.

Kíli’s display in defence of me was unexpected in more ways than one, but I was grateful for how quickly he had finally begun to regain his strength and energy. The progress had rapidly increased the more time we had been together. Still, it was impossible not to worry. “If I am to fight Dain, I need knowledge of dwarven strategy. This is all that you witnessed. You’ve exhausted yourself for no purpose.”

“You’re all the purpose I need,” he objected. He lightly ran his fingers over my arm where I had bruised. His eyes hardened at the sight of a streak of blood along my collarbone.

“You’re cut.” He stepped closer to inspect me.

“I promise you, I’m alright.” I took his wrist as he reached out and felt his pulse begin to slow into a steady rhythm with mine. He calmed and I saw the return of kindness in his eyes, all the fury leaving him as I forced myself to let go of my fear and worry for him. In exchange, I felt as though I was overcome with the strength of his fierce loyalty and love for me. It had the sting of an arrow piercing flesh, but it blossomed into a blinding and powerful light within me.

His palm was warm on my cheek as he looked up at me. Just behind him, I saw as Dwalin righted himself and leaned on his knees.

“Not to break up this right touching moment, but we’d best be getting on before folks start wandering out of the feast. It’ll be all our necks. I’d like to keep mine a little longer, if ye don’t mind.”

I kept my hand on Kíli’s arm as he broke eye contact to turn and look at Dwalin.

“I’m coming with you.”

“‘Tis not a good idea. If Dain -”

“It’s not up for discussion. All the mountain now knows there is an elf in Erebor. You’ll need more than just yourself should anyone come looking for trouble.”

Rubbing his jaw, Dwalin grunted acceptance. “Should work on your follow through.”

With that he walked out of the arena. As I went to follow, Kíli gripped my hand and spun me to face him. He reached up, tugging gently on the collar of my tunic, and brought my mouth to his in a flash of heat that sent my head spinning.

He murmured quietly before he let me go. “I’m not leaving you again.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul translations:
> 
>  
> 
> “Bintarg rûkhuz!” (Beardless villain)
> 
> “Ashrâgul durh!” (Dishonest troll)


	24. An Affair of Honor

Dwalin led the way and Kíli followed close to me, his fingers occasionally grazing mine. We came to a long corridor that ended in a large chamber. Two sets of large and ornate double doors faced each other at the opposite end of the room, while two single doors stood side by side.

I stepped forward to look closer at the engravings on the archway above, but Dwalin stepped around me and I followed him to the western wall. When he pushed open the doors and stepped inside waiting, I simply stood agape at the threshold.

I found myself moving slowly in awe. Stepping into the room I saw that it went further and deeper than I expected, expanding to the north with a seating area before a tremendous fireplace that receded into the opposite wall. It was easy to imagine the heat of roaring flames that might have once crackled in the hearth.

Though a slight layer of dust clung to the room, it was easy to tell that it had once been full of splendor. Even after seeing the endless halls and architecture within the mountain, I had not expected the more refined and rich tapestries and furnishings. Everything had seemed cold and impersonal. But this space would have been warm and personal. An enormous bed that appeared hewn out of the rock wall and surrounded by carved pillars that stretched from floor to ceiling was covered with a thick blanket of sky blue and edges of silver.

Kíli ran his fingers along one of the bed pillars and blew dust from the bedspread. 

“Dwalin… is this… ”

“Aye, it is. Cleared the corridor just a few days ago, so we haven’t gotten to all the dust short of unjamming the doors to let in fresh air.” Dwalin kicked at an ancient log lodged in the fireplace and watched it crumble.

Lush carpets spread out between the bed and the sitting area, and again before the fireplace. There also was a large table that might have once been a desk, overseeing the sitting area. Another set of double doors lay just beyond. I wanted to explore further into each room that might grow out of this one, but was stunned to stillness by the glimmering light that came flooding in through a large opening much like the mouth of a cave. 

Along where the western wall of the suite might have been was a large set of doors that looked more like gates. They were swung open to an outcropping overlooking the mountain slope, but what drew my eyes more than the view of what lay below was the expanse of sky above. Unimpeded by trees or any other structure, the blanket of rich midnight blue dotted with the shimmer and sparkle of stars stretched on for eternity. It was like standing atop the forest and being close enough to touch the stars themselves.

As if far in the distance, I could hear Kíli and Dwalin conversing about the royal chambers we had found ourselves in. The part of me that listened was grateful they might finally be letting go of some of the turmoil between them. But their voices played softly in the back of my mind as I stepped to the balcony edge.

The world and all its worries seemed to fall away beneath me and I became lost in the light. I could feel myself lighten as if floating, wandering through the starlight, until a sharp tug at my center seemed to chain me to the ground. No matter my desire to walk amongst that far reaching light, I found myself firmly tethered as I had never been before. The light of the stars began to dim and grow distant and cold. My brow knit in confusion, I felt my heart quickening with panic.

I heard my name being called out as though through a thick cloud. When I spun around, Kíli was standing close and caught my wrists in his hands.

“Tauriel, did you not hear me?” His smile faltered as my pulse hammered against his fingers. “You’re shaking. Sit down.” 

He drew me back inside to sit on one of the larger ottomans. Dropping to a knee in front of me, he traced his thumbs across my cheeks where a tear had fallen unbeknownst to me. He took my hands in his. I felt not wholly present, unanchored.

“Are you alright? Where did you go?”

“I… I was among the stars and it felt… it felt as though…” I shook my head and looked beyond him, now noticing that perhaps more time had passed than I thought. A fire danced and crackled in the hearth as Dwalin was slumped snoring in one of the armchairs. 

“Tell me,” he said softly, smiling warmly as he tried to push away his concern. He’d begun to realize that as he could sense my feelings, I could equally sense his. His effort to adjust his thoughts from concern to comfort was not lost on me.

Looking back into Kíli’s eyes, I felt my heart steady. He was slowly tracing his thumb across my wrist again, his steadiness and patience soothing away the ragged edges. “It was as though I could not reach them. The stars grew distant, unreachable.”

“I’d say you’ve been spending too much time under stone.”

“No. Well… yes. But that is not all.”

“Then what?”

“I do not know,” I sighed. “Perhaps I am more weary than I thought. I should rest for tomorrow.”

He smiled slowly and stood with his hands outstretched to me. “I know plenty of dwarves who’d pay a pretty coin to hear an elf admit to weakness.”

I quirked an eyebrow at him and sighed indignantly before standing. “It would be wise to be wary of calling an elf - or any female - weak.”

He started to laugh as I walked towards the bed. At some point they had shaken the dust from the blanket, so I sat and removed my boots. As I unlaced my vest Kíli cleared his throat and came to stand before me to still my hands.

“But Tauriel, we have company!” He smirked in mock disapproval.

I scoffed. “I am going to sleep before you tease me any more of weakness and impropriety.”

He nodded. To my surprise, he walked around the bed and unceremoniously leapt onto the opposite side to make himself comfortable. I resigned myself to his incorrigible recklessness and laid down to stare up at the canopy for a mere moment before he dragged me to him.

“Now who is immodest. Kíli -” I stopped him.

“There’s a draft and it is cold in the chamber.” He only gripped me tighter and burrowed against me.

“It’s perfectly bearable.”

“Maybe for you. But I’m cold.” He murmured against my neck.

“Liar, you’re a furnace.” I tried only halfheartedly to pull away, laughing to myself as my heart shimmered at the closeness.

“What has that got to do with -”

Dwalin’s voice boomed through the chamber, otherwise quiet but for the crackling flames and our banter. “Would you two shut yer gobs and let a man get some quiet!? You’ll have me to an early grave. Fussin’ and fightin’, tryin’ ta bash my head in… ” He trailed off, falling back to snoring.

Kíli chuckled against my neck where it seemed I would not be dislodging him any time soon. The sound and vibration warmed and renewed me as his hand stroked my back. Still, I had a nagging thought that would not let me rest.

“Will you promise not to interfere tomorrow?” I whispered.

There was silence.

I turned to look at him, the dim light from the fire dancing in the shadows on his face, in his eyes. “I can defend myself.”

He shifted and looked at me intently before answering. “I have every faith that you can. But I cannot make a promise that would keep me from protecting what is as necessary to me as my own heart.”

When I found myself without reply, he smiled and laid his lips gently on mine. His fingers traced the edge of my ear and trailed into my hair, weaving loose strands into a braid as my heart filled with a golden warmth. I sank softly, lost in the tenderness as the kiss shimmered and unwound between us. He kissed my forehead and I relaxed against him, finally allowing my eyes to close.

“Sleep, amralime.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

I ran. There were several curses shouted by dwarves I nearly bowled over that echoed after me, but I ignored them as I raced through the wide stone corridors under the mountain. I cursed myself for letting my guard down to the point of such a deep sleep. It was unusual for me to not keep partially aware and let down my defenses to such an extent. Apparently it had also been foolish to expect Kíli to honor my wish to defend and prove myself. I could only hope he hadn’t done anything too reckless, like challenge Dain in my stead.

As I nearly rounded the corner towards the arena, raised voices warned me of their presence. I halted my approach as I heard Dain laugh.

“You’re barking! Why would I fight  _ you _ , cousin!? Ye’ve got nothin’ to prove in the arena. Now step aside for the last time!”

My stomach churned. Kíli had done precisely what I had feared and somehow known he would. At least Dain seemed unconvinced. For now.

“You have no reason to fight Tauriel. She has done  _ nothing _ but fight for us!”

“Aye, after imprisoning you? If an elf is to take refuge in this mountain, she’d best be able to defend it. I need to see what she’s made of. Now get it in that thick skull. By Mahal you take after your uncle and his hard headedness!”

Kíli nearly growled. “Not so hard headed and foolish as to mistake friend for foe. Or aim to kill the person who saved a son of Durin.”

Dain was alarmingly quiet and calm when he spoke next. “You seem to think me a madman. If ye weren’t my cousin, and recovering from battle and the loss of your brother, I might take offense.”

I stepped into their line of sight to see that Kíli’s fists were clenched at his sides as he stood toe to toe with Dain. Both were bristling with temper and impatience. My timing serendipitously stopped their argument before it came to blows. 

“Well now. Here’s the lass in question after all.”

I nodded my head low to the red-haired dwarf. “Lord Dain.”

“You’ve got no problems with our little scuffle today, do ye?”

“I do not.”

“Ye see, lad? She knows like any warrior should that we all have ta take a few knocks and swipes now and again.”

With that, Dain slapped Kíli on the shoulder and walked under the archway into the arena. I watched as he conversed briefly with Balin on the other side of the expanse before I entered. Kíli snagged my wrist before I could go far, but I shook free as I turned to him.

“You  _ must _ let me do this. Do you not see that I will not be accepted until I stand for myself? By Dain or anyone?”

“Do you not see that I would have no harm come to you? I’m don’t trust his motives when it comes to you.”

I sighed and smiled, thankful for the unsurmountable depth of care and love I saw in his eyes.

“Have faith that none will.” I turned and stepped into the arena.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

We faced each other in the expanse of the practice hall with what seating there was full of jeering dwarves. It was clear and unsurprising that close to all were confident of Dain’s victory. He prowled and paced, calling out insults that never made it to my ears. I was focused in thought, in breath, in purpose.

I recalled earlier that morning being barraged with information from Dwalin and Kíli about what to look out for, what signs might let me know what was coming next. I had to remind them on multiple occasions I had fought for centuries longer than they had been alive. When more than once they tried to catch me off guard, I merely sidestepped their lunge or swing as if I’d known it was coming. Years and different skills than they were used to became more obvious, even if it did not lessen the worry Kíli was attempting to hide.

Even now, with Dain inciting applause and laughter from those that filled the hall, I could sense the restlessness. It had been a foolish attempt to request Kíli not attend. I’d the hope that my focus would be clearer without his emotion in the room, though I knew by now that I’d have felt him from across the mountain. It seemed that the stronger he got the more I could sense from him. All I could hope now was that it would not be a disservice. I focused on his confidence that I could prove myself instead of his concern.

It was a thin line I had to walk now. I could not simply allow Dain to best me, nor could I easily draw first blood without casting a poor light on him. Neither would win any favor for me.

Dwalin’s words echoed again. “Draw it out long enough and ye might end up at a stalemate of sorts. He won’t be pleased, but otherwise you’re set to fail whether you win or lose.”

I had no intention of a result that would see me cast out of the mountain or away from Kíli. Though less than satisfied with my understanding of the situation, there was no longer any denying the connection that was tying us together. Our strength and weakness, our emotions, we were all too clearly linked. I only hoped how and why might become more clear.

I breathed deeply and rooted myself in the present, listening to the cheers and jeers of the audience, feeling the weight of my daggers in my hands. I had opted for my own familiar weapons over that of the dwarves. While they saw it as weakness, I knew the familiarity and lightness of my own steel would be my advantage to swinging an unfamiliar blade.

Dain finally turned as it seemed his insults had run thin and I had not risen to the bait. He almost seemed to resent me for my refusal to take part in the ritual of mud slinging.

“Nothing to say for yerself, do ye lass? Are all you woodland sprites so tight lipped then? Let’s get on with it shall we?”

I nodded briefly before I closed my eyes and listened to the heavy footfalls of his charge.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

The crowd was not quiet, at first. But the longer our fight wore on, the greater the silence and heavier the weight of tension that lay upon the hall. Entirely focused on my opponent, I would only occasionally pick up wincing from the spectators as one of my blades came too close to their leader for comfort. We both had found ourselves in the dirt more than once and a sheen of sweat slicked across his forehead as I felt perspiration trickle upon my neck and back.

Dain’s frustration was clear. I was not a lumbering orc easily outwitted and bashed about. I moved too fluidly out of his path and away from the long reach of his axe. No blow landed was to the satisfaction of our purpose in the arena. It was in that amassing frustration I realized my opportunity.

He did not charge so much as march towards me, intent on putting an end to our dance. Resolved as well, I twirled my blades in my hands and rolled to the balls of my feet as he drew back his axe. Just as he swung, I moved. I spun and stretched to slice my blade across his shoulder as the edge of his axe caught my thigh. We both turned to face each other, prepared to continue until we each noticed the success of our landed blows.

The crowd collectively gasped and I felt the sudden rush of pride and concern from Kíli as he surged to his feet when our eyes met. Only then did I notice the faint sting of open flesh on my leg but I made no move to staunch the blood as Dain approached. He was equally unconcerned by his own wound, though longer and more shallow than mine. I warily kept a firm grip on my daggers as I felt the blood running down my thigh.

“That’ll do,” he said with a nod as he moved to walk past me.

I turned and stared after him in disbelief.

“Is that all you have to say?”

He kept walking but shouted to me over his shoulder. “Don’t make a fuss for nothing. You’re a worthy enough opponent. For an elf, that is.”

The spectators burst into laughter and cheers as they boisterously left for the feasting hall. I sighed as they all slowly disappeared through the archway. After wiping and sheathing my blades, I grimaced at the deep gash. Before I could tear fabric from my sleeve, a hand gripped mine. Kíli knelt before me and wrapped a piece of blue cloth around my leg to stop the bleeding. As he did so, I noted the female dwarf from the feasting hall watching us warily but with a glint of pride in her eyes before turning to leave with Dwalin and Balin. It seemed that whoever the victor was, that I was at least being deemed a less controversial threat.

When I tried to take a tentative step, I found I could barely put any weight on my injured leg and Kíli caught me before I fell. I am sure that my eyes betrayed my pain and bafflement as he held me there. I hoped desperately that he would not draw more attention to it than necessary and he seemed to know before I could speak of it. He slung my arm across his shoulders, his around my waist, and he took most of my weight as we left the arena.

“About time it’s my turn.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been atrociously longer than intended for this update, so my many apologies and thanks to those that are sticking with me and who have followed, liked, commented and waited!! So without much further ado...

Kíli insisted on tending to me rather than waiting for Óin to return. Sitting back on one of the healing tables, I tore at the leg of my breeches as he froze, the faintest blush running up his neck. He swallowed and bent to clean and dress the long gash across my thigh.

I winced as he ran warm water over my leg. It was deeper than I had thought or felt in the arena. Now that I wasn’t focused on avoiding Dain’s swings, the pain began to pulse and radiate through my leg. I closed my eyes and tried to focus my thoughts and breathing as Kíli cleaned and dried it. The pain was more than I was used to and I could sense his anxiety. Though it was fresh, the worst of the pain should have subsided. Even the pain I experienced on my fall from Ravenhill seemed less in comparison. The worst of the pain I felt then was from the loss of the dwarf now tending my leg. Only after thinking him gone did my body not heal. I couldn’t imagine why I was healing so slowly now.

I watched as he followed my instructions almost before I gave them and placed a thin layer of athelas over it before wrapping a cloth around my thigh. When he pulled the knot tight, I let out a gasp not knowing I’d been holding my breath. But his lips were on mine the next instant, soft and soothing. My hand gripped his shirt as his slid to the back of my neck. It was an eternity and yet over too soon when he gently pulled back and kissed my forehead. His smile opened my heart as if it were not already open and his already.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

“Thank you.”

He tucked my hair behind my ear. “You’ve saved me so many times, I will be forever in your debt.”

“It was always willingly done.”

“Still…”

He held out his hand as I rose to my feet. I took it, hesitant to put weight on my leg as it throbbed slightly. Again, he bore most my weight as we walked. We had left the healing halls and were just turning into the main passageway when Dain stopped us. Kíli ranged himself ever so slightly in front of me.

“Cousin! Started to wonder where you’d been off to when you didn’t join us in the hall.”

“I had to tend to Tauriel’s wound.”

“Aye, well as an elf she’ll be fine in no time. Cut like that won’t keep ye down for too long, I imagine. Right, lass?”

I nodded. “Indeed, we heal quickly enough.”

“Can ye walk? It looked deep.”

I noted the much kinder tone compared to our previous interaction. Perhaps my choices in the arena and standing now before him were evidence enough to him that I was worthy of at least his respect.

“But a little.”

He nodded and scratched his beard in thought. “How ‘bout a lot?”

Kíli was quick to defend me in the belief I might be being sent on my way. “You said you’d let her stay if -”

“Lad, you’ll learn to control that temper of yours before it gets ye into worse trouble with worse folk than me.”

I laid my hand upon Kíli’s shoulder to draw him back. “I fear I need some time to heal. A wound such as this may take but a couple days to mend. What would you ask of me?”

Dain pursed his lips, watching us carefully, and grunted. “It’ll keep. When you’re able, I’ve a wee job requiring some special handling you may be best suited for. You did well though lass, and I’m not easily impressed by elves.”

I bowed my head to him. He started to continue on his way but paused and turned back.

“I’ve left the arrangements of housing to those who claim an acquaintance with you and how best to keep ye comfortable. I've been told it's been mostly handled already. Get rested. And welcome to Erebor.”

* * * * *

Kíli helped me to lift my leg onto the bed after propping up several pillows behind me. He placed one under my knee and ankle as well which greatly eased the throbbing. No injury I had sustained in my years in the guard in Mirkwood had warranted the level of aid and hovering that was being bestowed upon me now. I was equal parts grateful and frustrated to feel so impeded.

I was weary where normally I might be energized by combat, and attributed this to the depth of the wound and how I must be requiring more healing than in past experience. It was hard to imagine then what pain and healing Thranduil had endured to not be successful in repairing his scars from dragon fire, or what any mortal might suffer. Letting my eyes close for a moment, I listened as Kíli shuffled pillows and blankets around me, stocking a bowl of water and supply of herbs nearby for whenever the poultice and bandage might need changing. Only when I felt his weight on the edge of the bed beside me did I open my eyes.

“Will you rest?” he asked me as he took my hand in his, toying with my slender fingers and comparing them to his own.

“I’m afraid I’ve little choice in the matter.” Again, I did not want to impart my feelings on how odd it felt to still be experiencing pain and bleeding.

His eyes searched mine and I imagined I could lose myself in their depths. As he rested his forehead against mine, I felt my heart trip over itself as my mind calmed.

“Amrâlime,” he murmured as he ran his hand over my hair, brushing past the tip of my ear. “I’m sorry for my worry. You fought so well. It reminded me of when we met and I saw you for the first time.”

“I cannot say I fought as well as then or as I’d have liked. My leg is evidence enough.”

He frowned as he sat back. “Still. I’ve seen you in battle. I should have trusted you.”

I squeezed his hand in mine and shook my head. “Do not think long on it. Trust is something that comes with time.”

“You have done nothing but earn it. I should have given it freely and I fear I’ve done little to earn yours.”

Though I shook my head in disagreement, I could see in his eyes we had a great deal more to learn and share between us. A look of resolve came across his face. “I’ve some things I want to see to, but I don’t want to leave if you need me.”

A chord struck in my heart and a faint voice in my head that told me I did and might always need him beside me. But at least for now I felt that time more than anything would mend my leg.

“Go. I will be fine.”

“I’ll send Óin to check in if I am longer than I expect to be?”

I smiled and agreed. Kíli rested his forehead against mine for a moment once more. His lips met mine and lingered gently, again sending waves of warmth through me. I sighed against him, his contact like a salve. When he paused at the door on his way out I smiled.

“Return to me soon.”

* * * * *

Dwalin was taking stock of the armory when Kíli found him. He was the only one Dain had in mind to be in charge of Erebor’s guard and forces. For training lesser experienced warriors, there were none better. And for Kíli, no one else would do.

He watched the tattooed dwarf’s muscles as he carefully replace the armor he had been sorting through. There was a time as a young dwarrow he’d watched Dwalin spar with his uncle and been both mesmerized and fiercely jealous of the strength that he exuded. Even now, knowing he’d almost skewered one of his uncle’s oldest friends, he was still somewhat intimidated at the thought of going up against such a fighter. Obviously he hadn’t been thinking. If he was going to keep up his strength and feel an equal to Tauriel, he had some training to do.

Dwalin heard him enter but continued at his work. “How’s yer lass?”

“Well wounded. She’s resting.”

“Let’s hope that’s the end of it then. There’s too much rebuilding to be done without everyone running off to watch Dain fight elves for fun.”

Kíli raised a brow in curiosity at the near put down of Dain’s antics. “You think it was pointless?”

“No. He’d a point and it was well made. No one ‘ll want a square go with ‘er now.”

Dwalin turned and considered. He tossed Kíli a large sword from the rack and tested the blade of another for himself. As he started past, he handed him a light chainmail chest piece. “Come on then. I ‘aven’t got all day to waste.”

“I meant to ask you -”

“I know what yer about. Let’s have at it.”

Kíli followed him to the training arena, intent on improving his follow through.

* * * * *

Dain thrummed his fingers on the table and listened impatiently. Everyone had more than enough opinions for the whole of Erebor on how the city would be rebuilt, how the gold should be saved or used, who should control what, and upon whose head the crown belonged. He’d yet to share his own opinion or intent with any, knowing that first and foremost a leader was needed. If he was nothing else, he was a strong leader.

“We can’t resume mining until some of the shafts are finished being cleared. Until then, we might be wise in using the gold stores for trade with the men and elves.”

There was grumbling amongst the Iron Hill dwarves at the table. Although Gloin agreed with the distrust, he was keeping his opinions more quiet since Kíli’s feelings towards their particular elven resident had become plain for everyone to see. Dis sat quietly, listening, and taking into account those that may or may not be in favor of her son taking over. Balin merely shook his head and sighed.

He cleared his throat and spoke over the muttering group. “We cannot expect to be immediately self-sufficient. It would be foolish to turn our backs to our neighbors.”

Dain rose and paced while the room waited. “Aye. Some will require more… persuasion… than others.”

“You don’t mean to befriend the elves, do ye? We still don’t know what the she-elf is really here for!” The outburst came from one of Dain’s lieutenants before being just as quickly squashed. The red haired warrior turned a sharp glare towards him.

“I don’t share all my thoughts like you seem ta feel’s needed. I’ll do what’s best for all our kin. As for the she-elf, I’ve made it clear she’s welcome here and I’ll hear nothing more on it!”

With few words, Dain ended the gathering after requesting Balin stay behind for a private word. They walked from the council’s meeting room through the wide streets brimming with activity as reconstruction got under way. Even dwarves bustling by with heavy loads and full arms would step aside for them.

“How’s the lad doing?”

“Faring better than we’d hoped. Oin says he’s just about recovered. Better and faster than expected, too. Seems he managed to knock my brother about a bit.”

Dain laughed. “And Dwalin let him live?”

Balin chuckled lightly. “I think he was more surprised than offended. There’d been plenty of words before your return about the elven lass. It was bound to boil over - though neither’s told me the full of it.”

“Don’t expect they will.”

“You’re right on that.” Balin scratched his cheek. “Have ye thought about who you’ll send to negotiate our alliances?”

“Aye, Master Balin, I have. And I’m to hear some grief for it, I’m sure. Not many will see it my way.” 

“Sure you’ve got your reasons.”

He could appreciate the diplomatic talents of Balin as he waited in silence, knowing when to share his opinion and when to listen. Dain paused to look out into the open cavern where paths criss crossed above and below them. There would one day be busy streets and noise and prosperity in this city. Even if it was not him upon the throne, he would help ensure it however he could.

“I’d like you to impart what you can before they leave. Get some sense of diplomacy beaten into him before he goes and starts another war with that blond bastard.”

There was no questioning who Dain spoke of. “He’s not got the same history as we do. As Thorin. He’s more likely to listen than the rest of us. But he’s got a fire that makes him a tad quick to let loose his tongue.”

“Oh aye! You’ll have your hands full to keep him in check. I hope you’ll be able to pass on the wisdom he seems to have ignored in his youth from his kin.” Dain turned to the wise and white haired dwarf.

Balin considered. “He’s got more thought than he acts. He’s got to find his feet without his brother and that won’t be easy for the lad. Those two were attached at the beard.”

“One way or another, he’s reckless as any I’ve known. There’s no telling what trouble will come of it.”

“‘Tis true. But he’s the heart of a leader.”

“Has he the head for it?”

“He will. He’ll learn.”

Dain nodded. “Aye, he’ll have to.”


	26. A Night Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellloooo!!!! Enormous thank yous are owed to everyone who has been reading, subscribing, waiting patiently, and asked how I'm doing. I know an update has been a long time coming, but I finally had a little time to polish this up for you! I'm in the final push of the semester (one month to go!) with a load of research and paper deadlines coming up, so I wanted to make sure to give you wonderful readers something to hold you over just a little longer until I can dive in again over my holiday break.
> 
> If there EVER comes a point where I decide I need a break from the story, I'll give you fair warning - otherwise I have no abandonment plans!! I'm too invested and love these characters too much to walk away :)
> 
> So ... with that out of the way ... be prepared for some

I found it impossible to stay asleep, waking in the night to find the space beside me cold and empty. It left me equally chilled and hollow, even with the fire still lit in the hearth. I carefully got out of the bed and slowly limped towards the balcony. Even in a few short days, I was becoming more comfortable and accustomed to Kíli’s closeness, and had come to expect it even though it was altogether new to feel any sense of reliance on another. Perhaps it was simply the heat that radiated from him but I couldn’t be sure the experience was unique or otherwise.

In all my years in Mirkwood, I had witnessed few links formed. Those I had seen did not usually progress quickly or publically. Even if the feelings of the two elves were known right away, it was more often than not at least a year before any declarations were made, and betrothal and marriage was a private affair only celebrated with others afterwards. It so frequently occurred among elves when they were centuries younger than I was, and it was rare to bind with another so much later in life. Not only had the idea not taken a forefront in my mind, but when it occasionally surfaced I realized I had long given up on the prospect for myself. Until web-covered wandering dwarves happened into my forest. Until I was told of fire moons and promises.

Although it had evolved exponentially faster than I’d have expected, it was hard to deny the connection. From the moment I turned to hurl my dagger at the fast approaching spider, I had felt a shift, an inexplicable pull. My fëa and hröa had been making the choice clear to me even if my head was lagging behind. What else had led me to the dungeons to seek his company, or rush after him under the pretense of securing our prisoners. Though I trusted in both and felt the desire that drove the connection, it warred with the nature that moved more slowly within me, patient with the unlimited time of my immortality. I knew I would soon have to reconcile with the fact that he was not immortal and I would not have forever. Time was against us. There would come a day where I would be left without him. For me, it would be the blink of an eye.

If I chose to bind myself to him, I would never take another even out of a desire for comfort. Had I not already experienced the loss to have it nearly kill me? Was it better to let us remain unbound than risk such devastating heartbreak? I realized that even if ununited, I was bound to him in every other way and it was impossible to imagine ever wanting another. I _could_ never want another. There was simply no choice to make. At one point duty and loyalty took precedence, and now I found that it was much unchanged. Who my duty and loyalty belonged to, however, had shifted in a direction no one in Arda could have believed possible.

It had been 3 days and I felt strongest in the mornings when he had stayed beside me. His recovery seemed nearly complete and he spent a great deal of time being requested to aid in rebuilding efforts or in the drill hall with Dwalin. And while the worst of my pain and bleeding had ceased, my wound was still not fully closed and my energies were still sapped. There was more redness remaining than Óin or myself were pleased with, and it caused a great deal of discomfort. We continued to change the compress twice a day and Kíli was sternly insistent that I stay in bed or seated for as much time as possible. He had had to bite his cheek for wanting to scold me on the occasions he found me up and about. So yet again, I found myself relegated to a single room within the mountain. At least on this occasion, the room was plush and comfortable with access to the open air and a view of the sky.

Ori had pulled a couple chairs to the balcony so we might be outside during the day while reading and transcribing his latest finds in the library and so I made my way towards one now. Tonight the air outside was cold and crisp, snow dusting the trees and slopes on the Lonely Mountain. The moon had begun to make its descent in the west, suspended among the rolling clouds that lingered from a recent storm. I could smell the sharp edge of winter. Autumn had come but with winter chasing hard at its heels. Stars sparked and flashed through gaps in the clouds, competing for attention against the light of the moon. A gust of frigid air rushed down the mountain and I shivered. It was rare to be so affected by the turn of the temperature, but I’d been more easily chilled since my round with Dain. I wished I had brought a throw with me to the balcony, so my resting outside did not last as long as I’d have liked.

As I turned to go sit by the fire and warm myself, the door opened with a boom of laughter. Kíli, having been unceremoniously disentangled from Bofur, stumbled in, grinning and flushed. He looked bewildered at the empty bed and turned quickly about in search of me. Bofur nodded to me with a grin, ducked back out and shut the door behind him, leaving me with a slightly inebriated dwarf.

I held the back of the chair by the fire for support as he caught sight of me standing there and took a step towards me.

“Just _what_ are you doing out of bed!? You’re s’posed to be resting!”

“I couldn’t sleep. Besides, you’d have woken me coming in like that anyway.”

If possible, the flush increased and was accompanied with a sheepish look of apology in his smile.

“I’m sorry.” He stepped closer and took my hands, walking with me back to the bed. He dropped onto it in a huff and struggled to remove his boots.

I slowly sat beside him and leaning over, helped pull off one of his boots and then the other.

“You can’t keep doing me favors. I’ll _never_ have the chance to repay them all if you do.”

I laughed. “I don’t think we need to include the removal of footwear to your list.”

“I’ll have you know I have a runny... err, a running tally.” He snorted. “You’re definitely winning.”

I shook my head and laughed again. “I thought you might have been off in the drill hall with Dwalin again, but apparently you’ve been at the ale.”

“I had been. But they persuaded me to join them at the feast. There’s always something to drink to. You’ll get used to it.”

“And what festivities did you partake in tonight?”

“Honoring the fallen. It’s a long event. So I think there’ll be feasts for a while to come, really. Bofur sang so much he’ll probably not speak for a few days. And Bombur kept rolling off the bench. But I may have had something to do with that.” He laughed as he fumbled horribly with the ties on his tunic, having already dumped his jacket and vest on the floor.

I was trying not to chuckle, but couldn’t contain my laughter when even he laughed at his inability to remove his own tunic.

“I give up!”

I laughed, “Oh here, I haven’t drank 10 barrels of ale. Let me.”

So focused on untangling the mess of knots he had made, I didn’t notice the humor turn to fierce wanting in his eyes as he watched me. Still, I could feel myself gravitating towards him like a star drawn to earth. He stilled my hands with his own as I untied the last knot and when I looked up, his mouth was a breath away.

A sound of surprise escaped me as he instantly closed the distance between us as his lips found mine. When his hand fisted in my hair, I lost my breath. Even in urgency, his mouth was soft, deepening the kiss as I relaxed into it, into him. A far cry from the cold when I woke in bed, my skin was on fire, my heart thrumming so loud I thought he would hear it as well. Lost in the moment, I held tightly to his shirt front and drew him to me again. He trailed his lips over my face, my throat, and back to my mouth before he took hold of my waist and hoisted me further back on the bed. But we had moved in such a way that I was so suddenly reminded of my injury with a flash of heat and pain I gasped. He released his hold on me as if I had scalded him.

“Oh Mahal, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” He looked appalled, ashamed at himself.

I reached up to him as he kneeled beside me on the bed, but he shook his head and drew back as he looked at me. “No, Kíli. We just forgot ourselves. It’s alright.”

He scrubbed his hand over his face in an effort to calm and sober himself more than the idea of inflicting me pain already had. With a groan, he fell on his back beside me and stared at the ceiling. “I feel I am always forgetting myself with you. I forget how rough I must be in comparison.”

I eased myself to sit up against the pillows as he rolled away and got off the bed. I watched him, full of questions, as he came around to me without making eye contact. He began to prepare a fresh bandage.

“In comparison to… what?” I questioned.

He glanced over at me seeming to regret his previous comment. “I’m sure my hands aren’t as soft or smooth as you’re used to.”

It took me only a moment to realize what it was that he meant. Before I could choose to close my jaw or speak, he turned to get fresh water from the bathroom. I was startled at the idea that he thought I had previously been with anyone, elf or otherwise. I tried to collect myself and my thoughts while he was in the other room. It had not been something I’d given much thought to. I knew there were differences between us and our people but had not considered whether dwarves approached mates in the same ways as elves. It was not something I had considered in part because it would change nothing for me. I resolved myself to convincing him of the same as regarded my feelings, and pulled back my pant leg.

I was just about to unravel the bandage when he returned with a bowl of warm water. “Kíli, I -”

But he interrupted my confession and my work on the bandage. “Please, let me do that.”

He was steadier than he had been before as he gently raised my leg at the knee to remove the bandage. He had obviously splashed water on his face as several droplets clung to his chin and collar, dripping down his neck. I watched him in silence as he removed the compress and carefully rinsed my leg. He needed no instruction on how to prepare and pack the athelas or wrap the cloth. It was not simply because of my initial instruction on the day it took place, nor was it from Oin that he so gently and carefully cared for me.

“You’ve done this before. Not just when I thought to tell you how.”

He smiled ever so slightly as he rinsed his hands in the remaining water and dried them. “I had practice when I was younger. Paid more attention than anyone ever thinks. I had to, to avoid going to our mother and getting our ears rung. Fili and I were always getting into scraps, though it was more often me getting bandaged. ”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

He pulled the large blanket from the end of the bed up to me and moved around the other side to sit across from me once again. When the silence pervaded, I asked him to tell me of his childhood adventures and injuries. “Would it pain you? To talk of your brother?”

He turned his head and looked into the fire for a moment. “No,” he said as he took my hand in his, turning it to run his finger along the lines on my palm much like I had a moment before. “No, I thought it might. But maybe the memories are better shared.”

When his eyes met mine, I could see the sorrow that grief had laid upon his shoulders battling the joy and humor of memory. A peaceful pleasure overtook me when I saw the joy and laughter win out as he began to tell me of the first time Fili had taken him drinking, and how neither of them had been able to sit for days when their mother found out.

 

* * * * *

 

I turned to him in sleep, seeking comfort and warmth. This depth of sleep was rare for me, as were dreams. But I found myself lost in them until his voice broke through and pulled me from nightmare and memory.

“Tauriel. Be still. You’re safe.”

When I opened my eyes, I found myself almost wrapped around him. He was still sitting somewhat upright, resting against the head of the bed and watching me with one arm wrapped around my shoulders. He shifted slightly and brushed hair from my face. I looked up at him, his face lit only by the fire, and closed my eyes briefly to imprint it upon my memory. On occasion, I still found myself struggling to erase the vision of his cold form on Ravenhill, and that is where I had been only a moment before, reliving that day in terror.

“You haven’t been asleep for long. I’m sorry to wake you but you began to shout and looked like you were about to reach for your daggers. I know what you can do with them and I’d rather keep my neck.” He chuckled.

When I went to disentangle myself from him, he quieted me and held me where I was. I fought myself for a mere moment before giving in and forcing myself to relax against him again. He placed my hand on his heart and instantly soothed me.

“I was on Ravenhill again. Unable to reach you.”

“I’m here now. Mahal knows how, but I’m here.”

We both watched the fire in the hearth as my heartbeat calmed to his. “Do you wonder at how?”

“Yes. And no.” He still held my hand to his chest and I felt it beating so strongly that I found it hard to reconcile that there was a moment it had not. “Before I woke here, in the mountain, I kept dreaming that I was back on the shores of Laketown. There was a moment I thought I saw a boat with my brother calling out to me, waiting for me. I dreamt of you and the light surrounding you like in Bard’s house. And of Mahal himself. Though it’s all still a jumble in my head.”

It was rare even for elves to dream of our makers, and it was the belief of some that when we did it was more than a dream. No elves of my acquaintance could claim to have experienced such, but I had heard stories.

“I’m sure it was really just the wonders of Oin’s tinctures as he’d have us believe.” Kíli chuckled and I warmed at the sound and feeling. He looked down at me. “Does your leg still hurt from earlier?”

“Kíli, I am fine. It will be sore for a time longer and I… I am stronger than I might seem, you know.” I offered him a smile that begged he forgive himself.

“I know just how strong you are, Tauriel. You are stronger than most any dwarf would care to admit. It’s nothing to do with strength.”

I eased myself up though he tried to insist otherwise, and sat so that we were eye to eye. Taking his hand in mine, I turned it over and traced my fingers along his palm, the callouses from hard work in the mountain and from bow and arrow. He watched me in silence.

“You said before that your hands were not soft or smooth, but I find nothing wanting. I’ve yet to see them miss a target. They are strong, hard working. Gentle and kind and true. I would not wish to know another’s hands.”

“They are not soft like yours... or I imagine another elf.” His eyes met mine again.

“You are not an elf? My eyes have truly deceived me! I must be going then. I’ve made a dreadful mistake!” I teased him and a false attempt to remove myself from the bed had the desired effect of earning an eye roll from him.

“Surely you…”

“There is _no_ comparison, Kíli.”

A slight flush rose along his neck as I placed his palm to my cheek and hoped he understood. We stayed like that for a moment. He seemed to wonder about whether to continue on this topic. His eyes were full of questions, but his lips moved into a smile instead of asking what he wanted to.

Gently pulling me back to him again, he smoothed his palm along my hair. “I won’t leave again tonight. Try to sleep.”

“Will you do the same?”

He rested his forehead against mine and softly kissed my lips. “As you wish.”

Once he had slid down into the bed beside me, careful not to jostle my leg too greatly, he brought my arms back around him and rested his head on the pillow close beside me. With my hand on his chest, and his arm holding me close against him, we both fell into a deep sleep.

 

* * * * *

 

It was not the sunlight or call of the ravens that woke me in the morning, but the voices I heard beyond the door. Careful not to disturb the snoring dwarf beside me, I gently disentangled myself and crept from the bed. Though improving, my leg always managed to throb first thing in the morning. I opened the door to find Bofur, Oin, and Ori arguing over whether or not they should wake us.

“You needn’t worry as you’re attempted whispers would wake any elf. Kíli, however,” I said as I turned over my shoulder and allowed them to look inside. He was sprawled and snoring. I stepped into the hall and brought the door closed behind me. “What is it?”

Oin cleared his throat. “I’m to look at your leg and decide if you’re fit for travel. These two are to help gather your things and get you sorted for the journey.”

I straightened to my full height rather than the relaxed state I’d been in moments before. The desired effect was achieved when they all took on the look of sheepish apology. “And where is it I am meant to be travelling?”

“Dain!” Ori sputtered in a burst. “It’s Dain! He’s sending you back to the elves!”

Bofur smacked him upside the head and was fast to correct him when my eyes went wide and my heart stuttered. “Oh you daft dwarf, weren’t you listening with those giant flaps you call ears? He’s not sending her back. Just a diplomatic trip as he’s told to Balin who of course told us. Balin didn’t want you getting the news the wrong way round. As Ori here delivered it for example. And you’re to take a representative of Erebor with you. Really, you’re the guide and escort not the other way around. He’s of a mind, or so Balin says and I’m inclined to at least believe _his_ account of things, that the elves will take more kindly if one of their own is in company of any dwarf he sends their way.”

I bristled a bit that this might be the errand he had mentioned to me before as I had no desire to return to my previous king’s realm. Though I knew my remaining in Erebor was no longer questioned, I knew finding my place here would take a great deal of adjustment on the side of all parties. For now, I could easily fulfill the role of diplomatic escort if it might lead to a greater freedom in days to come. I had long been commanded by the king in the woodlands, so I would tell myself it was no different for the time being. Besides, I would do what I had to in order to remain with Kíli. I kept the knowledge of my banishment and how my relation with the elves of Mirkwood stood after my abrupt departure to myself. And hoped it wouldn’t result in any worsening relations.

“And am I to know who I am accompanying?”

Oin simply looked at me like I was daft while Ori blushed and Bofur grinned as wide as I’d seen him.

“Oh aye. Who else do you think, lass? It’s the log sawing lad the other side of the door.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hope is that this leaves us on a more satisfactory note for the next mini hiatus of mine. I have high hopes that the next update will be up within the month, but I can't say how hard my final push is really going to hit me. I'll definitely have something for you shortly after the semester's end though if not before. So thank you again and again and ahead of time for your patience, kindness, and concern! If you can't wait to read more, I can't wait to write more!! xoxox


	27. A Morning Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final essays are killing me, so this is my escape from the agony! haha. Hopefully you enjoy my procrastination as much as I do ;) Here's a short interim chapter I thought I'd share sooner than later before we dive into the journey ahead!

Kíli had concerns and no problems voicing them as Oin inspected my leg and rewrapped it after applying one of his odorous concoctions to it. I was relegated to the armchair and Bofur and Ori went to ready the horses and packs since I had little to no personal effects that needed packing. Though the sun was barely risen, everyone seemed well ready for the day. Kíli was just finishing his final point of why this was a horrible idea to be sending us back into the forest full of trickery when Dain appeared at the doorway with Balin just behind.

“So it seems you’re to be ready for travel?”

I stood from the chair, careful with my weight still, and turned to face him as Oin nodded to the lord. “We’ve agreed it is healing. I don’t believe it should hinder me much.”

“Good, good. As for this errand I’m want to send you on,” Dain sensed that Kíli might pipe in with a retort or refusal and continued as if to show there was no question or debate to be had. “I expect the two of ye can handle any trouble, but I’m to thinking we’ve driven all the filth out and the roads should be clear.”

Ever stubborn and reckless, Kíli was still frustrated at being given orders by a cousin he’d never met when his uncle would always be king in his mind. “Will you not tell us why? What sort of  _ task _ is this that you send us on?”

“You’re for the lass’ forest to broker trade with the -” Dain appeared to bite his tongue before making a less than kind comment on his opinion of Thranduil. “The King of the wood.”

“Did you hear nothing of what happened when we passed through there before?” Kíli bristled and stepped forward to square off with Dain, his voice rising in frustration. “You demand we go with such little warning or request. And to trade? For what? I may not wear a crown upon my head but I am no messenger! I’ll not be sent off on a hapless errand after fighting for this mountain. After all that we lost to regain it!”

Balin tried to step forward to calm Kíli’s hackles but was stopped short by Dain’s hand. I had ranged myself just behind Kíli as well, prepared to draw him back if needed.

“After all that was lost… oh aye. Much was lost to regain this mountain, and much could still be lost. So I’d think you’d like to  _ keep _ it! Or perhaps you’d see the people starve rather than trade with our neighbors? If doing a duty for your people is beneath you, then perhaps indeed you  _ shouldn’t _ wear a crown. Don’t poke at me, lad. I’ve many reasons. Just because you fought and nearly died alongside the rest of us for this mountain doesn’t mean you’re ready to rule it. The lass managed to prove herself. Think of this as  _ your _ test cousin. We’ve need to establish trade with our neighbors before winter hits us full on and Erebor will have fine ambassadors between the two of ye.  _ IF _ ye can keep your temper.”

Kíli found himself without words long enough for Dain to roll his eyes impatiently and storm off. “Oh, get off with ye. The sun’s just up and you’re wasting daylight!”

Balin simply shook his head and chuckled softly when it was apparent that Kíli had lost his steam.

“Well now. I can tell you this isn’t something you should take as some simple errand anyone could be sent off on. He doesn’t share his every thought with me, but keep your wits about you and try to make friends. I’d be no happier than you to be sent back to those rotten halls, no offense lass,” he nodded to me as Kíli shoved into his heavy outer coat. “But there’s a reason it’s you and no one else. You’ve obviously got a way with some elves. We’re hoping you can win over the others.”

“To what end?”

“As Cousin Dain said - we’ve not the food stores to make it through winter and the elves might be willing to trade as we used to for what works we can provide.”

I secured my belt and daggers to my side and straightened my thick traveling tunic as I turned to Balin. “Thranduil is not apt to trade for mere metalworks. Long has he sought more than weapons and trinkets. He will not be swayed easily, I fear.”

He crinkled his nose and tugged on his ear for a moment in thought. “Aye, you’re right on that, lass. I know just the thing then, but only to be used as a last resort. I’ll meet you at the gates.”

Balin walked part way with us and then diverged down one of the many corridors. Kíli staying close beside me, I knew I could manage through the throbbing and slight pain in my leg if I limped slightly.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” he asked me after Balin had left us.

“Yes. Though I do not relish the return to my king’s realm.”

“I don’t either. Or having to play diplomat. I don’t know what is expected of me when it was always Fí or Thorin…” he trailed off at the thought of being given a task he now realized would be been best suited his brother and the heir to the throne after his uncle. Did this mean he might be expected to take on more duties befitting the royal house? A daunting weight of that possibility fell upon his shoulders as he began to see what his future may be shaping into.

“Do not let the expectations of others alter the course of who you are. If you let your heart and compassion lead you, you cannot go astray.”

Pausing as we reached the front gates, he brought my palm to his lips and smiled at me in appreciation. “Let’s hope the rest of the elves like me as well as you do.”

“For their sakes, let us hope _not_.”

He laughed as we stepped out to find Ori and Bofur stood not far away holding two saddled and geared mounts. They had ensured we were supplied and all our weapons had been well readied. Oin had been adamant we have a fair stock of bandages and athelas for the journey, a good weeks worth extra than would have been necessary. Apparently he was just as trepidatious about our visit as the rest of us. He’d packed his most useful ointments and collected more athelas for us when Dain had told their company he was sending us on this trek. Bofur seemed simultaneously worried and cheerful at the journey upon which we were embarking. Though he claimed to know nothing beyond what we were told, it was clear to all there was a deeper motive at play. I looked into the satchels tied to my saddle and found several of the texts I had worked on with Ori. If this was the sole reason for our journey, secrecy seemed less than necessary. But I also could not begin to understand why Thranduil would have any desire for such texts.

Seeming to guess at my expression of curiosity, Ori stepped towards me. “I thought maybe if you have the time… or if any of your kin can translate these… that would be quite helpful, really!”

I smiled and bowed my head to him. “Of course, Ori. What I cannot make out, I will ask those more elder and wiser.”

He blushed and was about to go on about some of his readings, but Balin and his brother came to meet us carrying a medium sized and inconspicuously wrapped parcel. Dwalin, having taken the reins from Bofur and Ori, sent them on their way after we said our goodbyes and eyed me sternly as I turned. 

“I’m not too happy with the way of it, but I’d not see either of you back here with so much as a scratch on your pinky, you hear me?”

“We are in agreement there, Master Dwalin.”

“I’m not sure which of you will have the harder job of it as the two of you seem to always find trouble,” he grumbled as he helped me to mount my horse. It took a greater effort than expected to swing my leg across the saddle, but once situated the pressure lessened to my relief. I knew the relief was temporary as we would have to make good time to reach the lake and river by dark. The ride would not be comfortable.

Before he turned to Kíli, he added, “And if that tree hu--- king isn’t feeling friendly, Dain’s parcel should have him see reason. It’ll be in Kíli's right satchel.”

“What is it? As I told Master Balin, he will not be swayed by mere trinkets and metal work.”

“Don’t you worry yourself about it. If Kíli has any luck, and you’ve any sway with the king… we won’t have to give it to him anyway.”

Before Kíli could mount, a rushing flurry of blue came bounding from within the mountain calling his name. Dwalin flushed slightly and quickly turned to situate the package to Kíli's horse.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ get on that horse!”

Kíli turned just in time for his mother to lock him in a fierce embrace. 

“How could you think to leave without a word to me?”

“Amad, it isn’t as though I was given an option.”

“Dain wants to see what you’re made of now that you seem so recovered. He’s smart enough to know you’ll be better at finding allies than he would, and we need allies to help see us through winter as we rebuild. But I don’t know why it has to be so soon that you must go.” She sighed, “You’re all I’ve left and I spent too long not knowing if I would make it to see you alive once more. I’ve no need to remind you of your promise do I?”

Smiling, he shook his head. “No, amad. It’s one I won’t forget.”

She patted his cheek. “Then also remember to be careful.”

He winked at her. “When am I not!?”

It was just the right thing to bring a smile and moment of cheer to her face. She touched her forehead to his and sighed, “When are you  _ ever _ , my reckless lad.”

She embraced him once more before turning an icy glare to me. My heart was lodged in my throat at the fierce motherly judgement I felt washing over me, having now realized why her face had seemed familiar and disconcerting to me days before.

“As for you,” she said. “I know only some of what you’ve done to save my son from the words of others. I’m being forced to trust you’ll do so again. I expect you to make him keep his promise. Or you’ll know the wrath of a Durin dam.”

I bowed my head. “I swear that I will do all I can to see him come back to you.”

She seemed to be slightly startled by my choice of words echoing her promise, curious at my knowledge and why her son would have shared such a thing with me, but she was satisfied nonetheless. Dwalin hurried past her to stand beside his brother and murmured something to him that had Balin shaking his head and smacking Dwalin on the back. Bofur winked and wished us luck and a speedy return, and with Kíli mounted, the group stood by the gate as we turned our mounts to the south.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! They're off!! Time for some quality one on one time, right??? Next chapter should be much longer and quite interesting, and it is most definitely all Kili and Tauriel. They have some getting-to-know-ya to do. Will it finally be smooth sailing? Maybe. Maybe not. After all, she's an elf very set in her ways and he is a stubborn young dwarf. They both have some learning to do and some misconceptions to overcome. Stay tuned!! :D


	28. On Unfamiliar Shores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season! It's had its ups and downs on my end or this might have been up a bit sooner. Also, I'm a perfectionist and have sort of been dreading posting. I've been putting off posting it because I'm probably going to have to hide my head under a pillow at responses... So here's my caveat (which I'll repeat at the end if anyone skips over these notes ;) )... Hang in there. I don't want to spoil the chapter ahead of time BUT... don't be disheartened. I PROMISE!! There are very good reasons and plot bunnies afoot. Hang in there, don't hate me, and thank you so so so much for reading, commenting and not killing me for the way my head cannon is taking this story haha.

We rode through the day at a quickened pace. Much of our journey was in silence, each lost in thought just as much as not sure where to begin now that we found ourselves so wholly alone together. So many thoughts crossed my mind but were just as quickly pushed aside, as I felt nerves I was not used to. It was also a trail of memories for both of us, haunted by darker memories and ghosts that lingered from the dwarves’ attempt at reclaiming Erebor. Different for each of us.

I tried to bring him out of his head by asking him of more stories of younger travels like he once shared from behind the bars of his cell. It seemed to lift him out of a lost reverie as we passed through battle worn areas. Telling me about happier times making mischief with his brother in the mining community in Ered Luin alleviated some of the weight I could tell he now felt upon his shoulders.

We made a few stops to water the horses, but moved on quickly, seemingly eager to put the mountain  further behind us. Until we came to the shores of the Long Lake I had done my best to hide my discomfort during our full day’s ride, thinking that otherwise our breaks would have been extended and we would cover less ground. I finally rejoiced in relief that we would be ending the journey for the night as we approached the familiar shoreline.

Though there was a short while of daylight to spare, we would not be able to cross into the forest and reach Thranduil’s caverns before dark. I admitted to myself I needed time to rest both from the physical exertion as well as to calm the worry that was beginning to build in apprehension of facing my prior king. I was both unnerved and pleased to be in my present company without the interference of any of his kin. I recommended that we might make camp here but Kíli didn’t seem to hear me. He dismounted and let his horse graze as he walked to the water’s edge, looking back to the mountain in the distance. His back to me, I could imagine how telling his face would be of the turmoil he felt.

“I remember hearing my brother call my name. I can almost hear it now if I try. I’d never choose to leave him, but still there was a moment on this shore… just a moment I did not want to go.” He crouched and let sand pass through his fingers as the water lapped calmly towards his feet. “And the next time I stood on this shore I felt much the same. Doesn’t seem I’ve had a lot of say in the matter.”

He paused as if he was making up his mind. “Now I’m to follow an order from a king that shouldn’t be… I keep thinking I have finally resigned myself to not being the master of my own fate. But there is always more.”

“Fates can be changed.” I silently slid off my mount and had to brace myself for a moment at the sharp pain that momentarily stole my breath as I landed. I focused on the dwarf at the water’s edge instead.

“Do you think?” He stared out across the water, silent and lost in clashing memories.

“Kíli - ”

“It’s alright, Tauriel. I don’t regret the chance to live. But I also cannot help from wondering what might have been. Or if he… if they both could have been saved.”

“They would want you to fight and live on. To honor their memory as only you can.”

I let my horse to graze with his and had stepped closer to Kíli wanting to reach out to him, but stopped short. My heart tripped at the idea that he might regret being returned to a life without his brother, or in fact his uncle. I had thought so selfishly of myself and my overwhelming grief and love for him when I begged him come back to me. Perhaps I had carelessly forgotten that a dwarf may prefer a well earned death with his kin. The thought struck me deeply.

He rose and brushed his hands on his legs. “Anyway. My ma would tell me to quit my wallowing and get on with it. Let’s check your leg since you wouldn’t let us break long.”

When he turned to face me, there was a pause between us, an odd space that lingered before he stepped towards me. I didn’t question anything I had done that would keep him in my life, only if he’d have rather had it some other way. Once more, it felt like he was asking himself the same questions and was yet unsure of the answer.

He took my hand gently, trying to leave his ghosts on the shoreline. Our eyes still locked, he slowly smiled up at me with a different sense of urgency than he once spoke the same words before. “Come with me.”

I felt oddly raw with my own memory of that brief second in time that had offered me a choice. I merely hummed my agreement and nodded as he helped take some of my weight and led me to sit on a nearby log. He hurried through one of the satchels tied to his saddle and brought a fresh bandage.

His eyes were kind and he smiled as he gently removed the wrap, but his tone betrayed his concern that I was not fully recovered. “I’ve never dealt with a wounded elf first hand before. Is this normal?”

I didn’t want to alarm him that this was slower than usual. Though I had not expected it to fully heal by now, I was surprised at how raw and fresh it still felt. It was more abnormal than anything I’d witnessed of an elf’s healing abilities before.

“It was a deep wound. I am sure it will just take more time.” I wanted to reach out to touch his cheek but he stood, just beyond my reach, and drew me to my feet gently. I struggled to ignore the growing knot in my stomach. Clearing my throat, I repeated my suggestion. “We should camp here for the night.”

“Right. I’ll get a fire going.”

He busied himself with the fire after securing the horses in a makeshift holding pen from some of the scattered drift wood that had washed ashore after Smaug’s attack on Lake Town. While he worked at that, I pitched camp and gathered some of the food supplies for supper. When Kíli returned to the fire from gathering more wood, his face fell at how much green was piled on the plate.

“Tell me more of the Blue Mountains you called home before your journey,” I prompted to distract him. I kept my face placid as he sat near me on the log and gingerly took a large leaf of lettuce. As he chewed it with a look of extreme determination, I had to cough into my hand to hide a laugh. But he swallowed and tried to smile at me and I was done in with laughter.

“What?” He was baffled. “Dwarves aren’t used to green food… I’m trying!”

I tried to stop my laughing as I covered my mouth to at least quiet it as I extended the plate I had tucked behind me to him. It had little to no green and a full portion of breads and meat. He stared at me, a wicked dark gleam in his eye. He snatched it from my hand and kept a wary eye on me as I found it nearly impossible to stop my laughter. I sighed and started to apologize when a bread roll struck me in the forehead. My eyes went wide and I stared in disbelief.

“Did you… did you just … throw food at me, dwarf?”

He quirked an eyebrow and took a bite of what appeared to be some sort of pie, grinning around it. I just stared as I slowly took a bite of the leafy greens from my plate I had taken back from him. When I looked away and into the fire, I was struck again at my temple. I stayed momentarily still before hurling a head of lettuce at him and just ducking enough to evade the next item thrown my way. I heard it splash at the shoreline and turned ready to throw more at him when he lunged forward to tackle me and grab my wrist before I could throw the vegetable. He tumbled us both off the log.

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“You are who started it.” I glared at him though I knew the smile that twitched at the corners of my mouth gave me away.

“And I thought elves were supposed to be mature with all the wisdom of the ages.”

I sneered. “Must be the influence of spending too much time with dirty reckless dwarves. Release me, you oaf.”

He chuckled. “Only if you try one of these.”

It was a meat pie in smaller form that I had seen in my time in the mountain. I crinkled my nose and feigned disgust, turning away. I had eaten meat more than once in my lifetime and it was not such an offense to me as lettuce seemed to be to dwarves. Though it was not my typical fare, I had no problem with it. He didn’t need to know otherwise though. When I feigned protest and disdain, a weak struggle to free my wrist from his grasp, he pinned my arms at my sides with his knees. I tried to glare at him in refusal, and told him as much.

“No.”

“Tauriel. You’re a warrior. Be brave. It’s not that bad, I promise!”

I sighed and let him bring it to me to take a bite. I took a bite and pretended to be repulsed before taking another bite larger than he expected. I laughed at his shock. “Silly dwarf. I’ve eaten meat before.”

“Alright, that’s it.”

Without any further preamble, he picked me up and carried me towards the water.

“Kíli, what are you doing? Kíli, I was just teasing!” I tried to break free, but he had a strong hold of me. “Kíli, you can’t be serious!! Put me down!”

He walked quickly and surefooted into the water and simply dunked me. I shot to the surface sputtering as I gained my feet.

“You… you… _Nátye necindo!_!! Are you crazy!?” 

He still had a hold of me as I tried to push free from him. “I must be, but I blame you for it.”

“What have I done!?”

He pulled me close to him with a grip on my vest and brought his arms around me. We were almost even in height on the slope of the bank. “Everything?”

“And just wh -” but I was interrupted with a fierce though somewhat chaste kiss.

“I feel lost in so many ways, but I’ve never felt so alive and like I belonged more than I do with you, Tauriel.”

My exasperation softened from the love I felt for and from him. “Kíli -”

“I told you once how I felt. It hasn’t changed. I don’t think it ever will.” He brushed back wet tendrils of hair from my face with his thumb and met my lips with his. Softer now but more passionate and with more need than before.

I clung to him as his arms embraced me tightly. I barely felt the chill of the water for the warmth that came from him, the fire that he lit within me.

“Perhaps we can remove ourselves from the lake?” I asked.

He laughed and grasped my hand, leading me from the water. He turned to kiss me again, walking backwards towards the tent. I pulled back.

“Kíli, we’re soaking.”

“I’m well aware, Tauriel. We’ll dry faster out of our wet clothes.” He grinned as he shook a couple droplets of water from his hair.

I tugged him gently towards the fire instead of the tent. As we went to sit, he quickly grasped me so that now I was cradled in his lap - though I did outsize him enough that my feet mostly touched the ground. Moving my hair away, he began to kiss my neck. I shivered but not from chill.

“Kíli...”

But I felt my muscles loosen and relax as he trailed kisses along my neck and collarbone, brushed his lips along the length of my ear to my jaw. I felt heavy and grounded and so irrevocably drawn to him. When his lips found mine again, he was like an oasis to quench a sudden desperate thirst. A sound of mingled pleasure and need escaped me in a rush. With the heat of the fire warm against my back, and the sturdy furnace of his body against mine, I felt engulfed in flames. And all I could think is that I wanted to burn. Like the stars burning in the sky above us.

I barely noticed that his fingers had worked away most of the ribbon on my outer tunic until his hand began to wander. There was little to nothing that made me want to stop him, but I felt a need to disclose myself to him and eliminate my hesitation. I felt he needed to know what it meant for me. For us. I knew my choice was made and could only hope that his was the same. To enter into anything with him unaware felt deceitful and unwise.

Breathlessly, I stopped him, my hand on his wrist as it came around my waist, his fingertips brushing my skin under my loosened tunic. I tried to gain some space and clear my head to no avail.

“Wait, Kíli...” I rested my forehead to his, my eyes closed trying to center myself again. But grounding myself brought me closer to him. His scent mixed with the cool air t was a force beyond the weight of the mountain that had our lips meeting once more. My arms wound around his broad shoulders.

Again I found myself lifted in his arms. He turned us so I was seated on the sand with the log against my back and he was in front of me kneeling between my legs. He leaned forward over me with his mouth pressing warm kisses along my neck and collarbone. His hands slid down my sides to my waist and he moved to close the small distance between us. All too aware of the feel of his body against mine, and the desire that I could not quench, I drew what strength I could to break the moment we were more than happy to be caught up in. I pressed my hand to his chest to stop him, feeling the heat radiating into my palm and up my arm.

“Stop a moment.”

He sat back as I raised myself and brought my legs against me almost as a barrier between us. I thought I could see the light change in his eyes, but I could not tell if the flood of feeling I had was my own or his. Or the both of us.

“Have I done something? Have I hurt you? Your leg -”

“No. My leg is… as fine as it can be.” I dropped my hand and he moved closer as though to pull me to him. “Just a moment.”

He sat back on his heels, such a mixture of emotion on his face that for once I could not read it as I battled my own. “What is it?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Kíli. But there are things you must know.”

For a moment, I questioned telling him. Did it matter? It could barely affect him, could it? I knew from older tales just what may befall me were we to wed and he not honor the union as elves did. While I felt the feelings between us had done nothing but increase and blossom more deeply, I could not fully give over to him without knowing I was more to him than the “dalliance” I had once heard myself referred to in the halls of Erebor.

“Tauriel, nothing can change what I feel for you.” Though he stayed where he was, he took my hand in his.

“Nor I for you. But…” I sighed. His adamant assurance soothed some of the jagged edges of my racing heart but I could not help wondering if that would remain true.

He eyed me simultaneously with compassion and suspicion. “Tell me. But dry clothes first.”

Standing before me, he drew me to my feet as well smiling. He handed me one of my satchels and held the flap of the tent open for me. Changing quickly, I gathered my thoughts best I could. I was just reaching for the opening when he peeked his head in, covering his eyes with one hand.

“Are you decent?”

Before I could answer he had peeked through opened fingers to see for himself. He winked and I shook my head at him as he came to sit before me, rubbing his hands along my arms to warm me.

“So. You have something to tell me.”

“I am not familiar with the ways of dwarves. But elves, when we so choose, mate and marry for life. Not all marry, or have children though it is unusual. As it is also unusual to do so later in life.” I watched him listening, careful in his expression. It was not clear to me if he grasped what I was telling him.

“Sounds quite like dwarves, to be fair. Though that is more so because our women themselves are rare and often do not find any dwarrow suitable.”

“What about Bombur and his -”

“Oh, well. He’s … I’m not really sure how to explain Bombur, really.” He chuckled and relaxed slightly closer to me. “I mean, several dwarflings is not unheard of over the years, but he’s beyond… well. You were saying.”

“Yes,” I wrung out some of the water from the ends of my hair over the pile of damp clothing I had yet to lay by the fire. “Marriage is eternal for Elves, as we are to live our lives forever in Arda and beyond. We never part or marry another - even if one should die.”

His brows were drawn together as he spoke carefully. “We may not be immortal, but dwarves also only marry once. At least I’ve never known of any to marry again, but I’m young yet with my kin.” He scratched the back of his neck and looked into my eyes more seriously just then.

“But Tauriel, you’re speaking of marriage. I don’t understand.” he reached out to touch me and brush his thumb across my cheek. I felt my cheek flush under the warmth and desire. “This… This is not marriage.”

I looked up into his eyes trying to conceal the worry, the feeling that he did not understand and if he did that he did not intend the same as I. He had such a perplexed look, and yet exuded a humor and confidence that he felt he would sway me. He smiled and leaned towards me, brushing his lips on mine. I tucked loose wet tendrils of his hair behind his ear as he kissed me, and smiled softly when he sat back.

“Kíli. Do you not see? Marriage and coupling are one and the same to my people. There is no difference. For elves. For me.” I gripped his hand.

He froze once more as he released my hand, staring into my eyes. Though no more of him moved, I felt him pulling away. I did not fully understand, but had known it a possibility.

“So you’re saying…” he seemed incapable of completing the sentence, choking on what he felt remained unsaid. “I think I know what you’re saying.”

I felt the world shift beneath me and my heart echoed the turmoil. The heat I felt now coming from the dwarf before me had shifted to anger that I failed to understand. I began to question it but my words stopped short as he simply stood, turned, and walked out of the tent.

I sat agape and stared at the fluttering tent flap for an immeasurable amount of time. When I finally resolved to step outside, it was full dark and the stars were hidden by a thin cloud layer. Just as well that the stars were not on my side tonight. Kíli was sat at the fire with his back to me.

I walked silently past and sat on another log apart from him. He did not raise his eyes from the flames to look at me. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and low, just a hint of barely contained anger. The tone alone cut me like the sharp edge of a sword.

“I’d been told elves were distant and cold. I thought maybe at least shy. That you were just shy, or there were always my kin about. Never the time, the place. We were both wounded. Times I thought it all a dream. But no.”

“Kíli, what do you think -”

He kept speaking over me, his voice growing louder, firmer. “What a fool I was to think you would… That you could… It was a foolish dream all along. They were all right and I wouldn’t listen. So tell me. Is it that blond headed bastard? At least I know now why you turned to him on the shore that day. Why did you bother coming to Ravenhill? And to Erebor!? Were you going to let my feelings for you continue until you got whatever you wanted from me? From my kin? Am I to find out you’re precisely what Thorin always warned? Greedy and deceitful.”

His eyes finally met mine, and they held not just anger but embarrassment and betrayal. He genuinely believed this was the reason for everything I had said, why I had perpetually shied from allowing our closeness to become more physical. That I had led him astray and would toss him aside, or worse, belonged to someone else and had deceived him from the start.

It took me a moment to find my voice and recover from the confusion. And rather than reason or explain, rather than defend or correct the misunderstanding, it was the rawness of my emotion that spewed forth . “How you come to this conclusion from what I have told you, the Valar alone can say. I thought your anger would be in belief I attempted to trap you. That I had no desire for you… or to marry… Or angry that I had not told you a moon ago. But, this is what you would think of me?”

At the blank stare I received from him, my own anger and insult bubbled to the surface. “You would insult my honor and accuse me of actions so untrue and wholly against my very nature?”

His demeanor began to change as he witnessed the fury that was rising within me. Though he scoffed for a moment in disbelief, he could see, could feel the hurt pouring out of me. His words had cut me more deeply than I thought possible and there was no stopping the flood of regret that threatened to tear me apart as greatly as I had been when I thought him lost forever. The air in my lungs felt sharp like thorns with every breath, strangling me from the inside out.

“Would those spiders have finished the job… or that I had never stopped at your cell!!” I yelled as I surged to my feet. “Chased a band of orcs after you. I should have let that morgul poison spread, you hardheaded dwarf.”

An excruciating ache began to spread from my leg as I limped, pacing in an almost righteous fury. I was furious at myself equally as I felt my heart begin to weigh heavy in my chest. “I defied my king, betrayed his trust and turned my back on the very borders I swore to protect. For what? To be banished from the only home I remember. To feel the breath of death, to be caged, memories stolen, assaulted and wounded by dwarves and … for… for what? To save you! Insulting, foolish, reckless _sell, tarlanc úan_  -”

As I turned once more, the barbs of insults beginning to flow in my mother tongue, I ran into him and would have stumbled had he not grabbed my arms, pinning them at my sides. I tried to shake him off but he held firm.

“ _Idribtu_! Enough, Tauriel.”

“Let me go.” Though I had intended a growl, my voice broke slightly with the plea.

There was a war within him plain on his face. Whether he should hold on and force me to face him or let me go. For a moment I didn’t know which he would choose or how I might respond until he carefully withdrew and held his palms up in a gesture of peace. I felt no peace in that moment, just the turmoil ripping at me from the inside out. The ache that had grown from my pacing began to claw through me like talons and I fought the urge to reach out for support or sit. With my fury slowly abating, a greater dread replaced it that we might misunderstand each other to such a degree that it all had been a terrible mistake and misadventure. Would we be plagued to miscommunicate our feelings so greatly? Unable to find the words to try to bridge us back together, I turned from him and the fire.

“I will sleep under the stars tonight,” I spoke quietly over my shoulder. I could barely admit to myself that I felt the tear within me grow when he did not stop me, just as I was equally glad he let me step away. But I worried for what words might pass our lips to harm each other if any more was said.

Taking one of the furs from our supplies, I went to sit against the trunk of a tree near where the horses grazed. I shuddered, exhausted and drained. With the worst of my temper subsided, I was now left feeling raw, exposed, and completely misunderstood. The tears welled at the knowledge that he thought I was dishonorable enough to behave as he believed I had. But perhaps it was more simple and I was the foolish one, not him. Perhaps my early fears that this was a passing desire were correct. It did not ring true to my heart that his interests were as shallow as only wanting to lay with me in the casual way of men, or that he would have gone to what lengths he had, shared what we had shared. I wanted to hope that it was merely a lack of understanding each other’s customs. But I found myself at odds with any explanation and hoping was beyond me just then.

I dared not turn to look, but I heard him stoking the last of the embers and similarly choosing to rest outside of the tent. I could feel him watching me so I shut my eyes in relief that we might find respite in our solitude and each come to our senses somehow come morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Elvish:  
> "Nátye necindo! "- You are insane (literal - you are without heart)  
> "... reckless sell, tarlanc úan” - reckless child, obstinant monster  
> Khuzdul:   
> Idribtu! - (Stop it!)
> 
>  
> 
> I posted this at the beginning - but am posting here as well for any who skip over the pesky notes at the beginning or wait until after. SO... I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season! It's had its ups and downs on my end or this might have been up a bit sooner. Also, I'm a perfectionist and have sort of been dreading putting this up. I've been putting off posting it because I'm probably going to have to hide my head under a pillow at responses... So here's my caveat... Hang in there. I don't want to spoil the chapter ahead of time BUT... don't be disheartened. I PROMISE!! There are very good reasons and plot bunnies afoot. Hang in there, don't hate me, and thank you so so so much for reading, commenting and not killing me for the way my head cannon is taking this story haha.


	29. Into the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! First and foremost, thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments! And welcome to all my new readers who are joining in on this journey through Middle-Earth!
> 
> I know that last chapter left a bitter taste on the tongue for some if not many (even myself, I admit), so I have been diligently working to get us past the discord! Also, I'd like to try (since these don't really spoil much) placing the translations at the beginning rather than the end. If you have an opinion or preference, let me know as I'm always undecided on how to present them. A few friends state they prefer up front or in the text so it doesn't interrupt flow, so I'm trying this out. I'd love to hear your thoughts on where you prefer translations to appear!!
> 
> Sindarin translations:  
> "Mae govannen" - Well met
> 
> "Edlennen” - exiled
> 
> “Tolo.” - Come.

So many words remained unspoken between us through the morning, and we hurried through the motions of readying for the day in silence. I took it upon myself to care for my leg without his aid and before he had the opportunity. I felt his eyes fall on me more than once and sensed his urge to speak, but I found ways to occupy myself or move away. The day would be difficult enough without starting as the previous night had ended.

With my wound rebound, a dissatisfying breakfast in our bellies, and camp repacked, we urged our mounts on and continued south along the Long Lake until we turned west to follow the shoreline of the Forest River. All the while, a lingering discomfort between us. Shortly after we passed by the gates of one of the river locks, Kíli rubbed at his thigh, remembering quite clearly the searing pain as the shaft struck him in the weeks past. We paused to let the horses drink.

“Does it still affect you?” I asked, watching him closely. He seemed distracted and for a moment unsure what I meant.

“No. I limped for a few days but it’s just the memory of it now and then.”

The scene seemed to play out so clearly before me. At the time I had only seen him pierced by the arrow with an orc blade about to strike him down, not knowing the peril he had truly been in. Our eyes had barely met before I was engaged with more orcs and he was falling into a barrel.

“When you fell beyond the gate, I thought perhaps I might not see you again.” I looked back and out to the lake in the distance. “Worse when the orc revealed it was a morgul shaft.”

Again, our eyes met for a moment before we each turned away quickly. We both felt too foolish and perhaps too prideful to bridge the divide to the other. The horses well watered, we continued west along the rocky edge of the river.

He broke the silence. “It’s a shame really we don’t have any barrels for this journey. It was quite a ride. Might even be fun under different circumstances when I haven’t just been shot. And there isn’t an elf jumping on our heads.”

I chuckled under my breath. “Only a dwarf would enjoy careening down rapids in a wine barrel. Though, truly only a dwarf or hobbit could fit.”

“Well, Bombur almost didn't.”

My eyes widened as I turned to him. I hadn’t thought of the large dwarf and now wondered how he had fit. My focus had been quite singular until we came upon the orc raiding party. Perhaps even then. Kíli was still facing forward as he spoke but I watched him as he remembered in good humor. It seemed as though for now we might at least ignore what misunderstanding had passed between us the night before and find a way back to camaraderie.

“Nearly burst the thing. Actually - he DID burst the thing! But that was only after he’d gone and bounced right out of the river and started bowling them down. But after that… I don’t remember much until I woke from a dream to find a bowl of walnuts beneath my head and a particular elf hovering over me. Bofur’s been joking that I turned poet and still refuses to tell me what I said.”

I smiled to myself, though the memory felt bittersweet at the moment. “You were in a fevered state, despite what healing I could do. You thought I was a dream and said as much - and more. More than you may have intended. After such an injury, I imagine you were not yourself.”

And perhaps it was that which stung me most. His wish may not have been his own in his right mind and yet it had been granted.

“Durin’s beard,” he cursed softly to himself. “Everyone acts as though it’s a secret.”   


My eyes anywhere but on him, I murmured quietly unsure if he heard me. If the thought was never again uttered and our union never came to pass, his hope that I might have loved him would remain my own. “It will remain my secret as well.”

As we approached the edge of the forest, we paused and I moved to lead us the easiest and most direct way through to the main gates of Thranduil’s caverns. Kíli shuddered.

“I don’t have the fondest memory of your forest.”

“Is it your capture or needing to be rescued that offends you?” I teased with perhaps more of a barb to my tone than I intended.

“That was the highlight.” A smile crinkled the corner of his mouth briefly and had his intended effect.

My lips twitched in humor. “Then why?”

“Spiders.”

“I am sure we can manage.”

“I’m sure I can at least. Not sure about you and that leg.”

“Last time you needed quite a bit of assistance.”

“Last time they got the drop on us. Besides,” he smirked darkly. “This time I’ve got my own daggers.”

“If you can keep them…  _ dwarf _ .”

He snickered as we stepped into the treeline.

 

*    *    *    *    *

 

Though we had worked hard to clear the forest of the spiders and other foul creatures, there was still darkness lurking- especially as Thranduil had not cared for clearing the wretched creatures from their source once and for all. He had cared only for his own borders. The forest was not healthy as it once might have been and sadly not much improved since my departure. While I could sense it, I was not overcome by any ill effects I recognized. Kíli, though ill at ease, was equally steadfast and sure of the path ahead. Though it created a greater discomfort and some sharper pains in my thigh, we pushed on at a faster pace.

Guiding his horse beside mine he reached over to lay his hand on mine. “Tauriel, this may not be the time but about last night, I’m -”

But he heard as I did the faintest sound of an arrow being knocked. He urged his horse forward in a flash to stand in defense that was rather unneeded. The threat was no foe but members of my previous guard.

I was quick to grasp Kíli’s wrist when he reached for a throwing knife as two of the King’s Guard silently leapt to low branches that still afforded them the higher ground. They lowered their bows as our eyes met.

“ _Mae govannen_ , Tauriel.”

“ _Mae govannen_ , Tawarthion. Feredir,” I replied as they curtly bowed their heads.

“We have not seen you in a moon at least. Nor did we expect your return.”

I watched warily as they looked to one another with suspicion over my traveling companion. “There was much work to be done and I found myself of use to Dale and Erebor.”

“A generous undertaking to be sure.”

They murmured quietly to each other as to how they might treat me as both a banished subject and their previous captain, all while wondering why I was in the company of a rather oddly tall dwarf who seemed to be acting as my defense and not my prisoner. To avoid the possibility of them inciting insult in Kíli, I simply answered their quiet murmuring that he could not hear but witness clearly enough. Secrecy could come to no good and I would no longer let it be borne between us. Language barriers would only increased such.

“He is no longer a prisoner of this realm but a prince of Erebor and under my protection.”

They both raised an eyebrow at my announcement as it seemed quite the opposite since Kíli had ranged himself before me.

I could feel the adrenaline that was pumping through him beside me. He was fully prepared to fight if necessary. Even with what space I felt drifted between us, he would fight for me. It emboldened my feelings to know that yet again, he would take it upon himself to defend or aid me. Much like he had on Ravenhill. I blocked that thought from my mind as much as possible, though it always seemed to resurface when least expected. 

“We will have to take you to the King. He has not allowed any passage through as you are well aware.” Tawarthion was the senior guard of the two and took the lead in replacing his arrow in his quiver.

I nodded. “It is the king that we seek out, not passage.”

There was a solemn pause among the two guards as they replaced their arrows in their quivers and lept to the ground. Feredir spoke up. “You should still have sent word, captain. He will not be pleased. You are  _ edlennen _ .”

“ _ Tolo _ .”

Kíli remained on edge, watching the elves warily while tracking his eyes through the forest for any additional threats. Our horses were equally wary in the forest but more at ease with the elves leading them. Kíli turned to me with a question in his eyes and tried to whisper so they wouldn’t know that he might not be as well versed with elves as he began to feel he should be.

“What did they mean? What is edlanin?” his pronunciation close but not quite correct.

“ _ Edlennen _ . Exiled or banished. I was never to return to these woods under penalty.”

“Penalty of what?”

“The king decides a punishment worthy of the violation. In this case, I imagine he would choose between imprisonment.” I paused and glanced at him. “Or death.”

 

*    *    *    *    *

 

We were brought through the caverns, our horses taken to be watered and fed. Thranduil would have all our satchels and bags searched thoroughly, I knew. We were led to his throned platform where he sat on the raised and antlered throne, a look of uninterested boredom on his face as we entered.

“It was unwise for you to return, Tauriel. You feel you would be welcome to enter our woods and with one of our previous… … guests?”

I knew Kíli was vibrating and containing annoyance at our treatment and the disdain that Thranduil was never afraid to show.

“My lord, I - “

“Am I?”

I paused and looked at him questioningly.

“Your lord. You would have me believing otherwise with your departure and continued absence. Intriguing that you return still so solitary and yet unchanged in condition as when you parted these halls.” He brushed the thought away like it was a pesky gnat circling overhead. “Continue.”

I had to bite my tongue over the insult in his comment as regarded my marriage status. The intention of sharing or speaking of this or my health was beyond me, and I felt Kíli’s eyes turn to me. If it were just myself and Thranduil, then perhaps there would have been less formality required. As it was, several guards had remained and flanked me and Kíli. It was out of respect for my previous rank among them that we had not been disarmed, but as we were also not quite welcome, we would not be left to our own devices with the king of the realm. I knew a great deal might depend on relations between Erebor and this realm, so I felt it a duty to maintain a level of cordiality with him. It would do none of us any good for me to ruffle his feathers or set us on a course of discord if Erebor would need to rely on food stocks from outside their kingdom to survive the winter.

I was about to relay our purpose when Kili stepped forward. If he noticed the shifting of the guards behind us at his motion, he ignored it. I restrained the urge to place my hand on the sheathed dagger on my hip. “She is here as an escort at the personal request of the king under the mountain, Dain of the Iron Hills, cousin to Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thranduil squinted, eyeing Kíli suspiciously as he spoke. He thought him more than brazen for interrupting even an outcast elf in his halls to speak to him. Sitting quite still on his throne above us, Thranduil looked more bored than anything else.

“Ah yes. The young archer of your party. And you are here not out of desire but duty as well. Why?”

“To restore good faith. We are expecting more of our people to enter our gates. They may require passage through your woods. And before the dragon took the mountain from my great-grandfather, our kingdom traded with the men of Dale and yourself, and —“

Thranduil completed his sentence for him, “And you hope to restore this trade as well.”

Kíli maintained a very stern eye contact with him. “Yes.”

After a long moment, Thranduil stood from his throne and moved down the steps towards us, the fabric of his rich and long coat rustling behind him. He glared at me for a moment, subtle enough in his displeasure that perhaps only I picked up on it with the knowledge of what had passed between us before my departure. He took a slow turn around Kíli before coming to stand looming in front of him, sizing him up. Kíli did not falter or flinch under his gaze but rose to the moment by standing firm and tall, ever a Durin of his uncle’s blood.

“I know who you are though you seek to hide it. You are no mere emissary.”

“I do not hide who I am. I have no wish to. I am a son of Durin and nephew to Thorin Oakenshield.”

“You wear much of his pride and arrogance it seems. Though not his crown. I had not thought Dain any less mad than your uncle. Perhaps I have misjudged him.” At this he paused and looked to me briefly. “Perhaps not.”

I could tell that Kíli bit his tongue hoping for patience to deal with the elven king that saw it as his right to insult his kin.

“Would you open your borders to the passage of our people and establish again trade ties between our realms? Upon our restoration we will see a great deal of new metalworks and gems produced within our halls that we would send in trade. I am sure that you could see use of the fine metals of --”

“Do you think us unable to craft our own weapons, dwarf? We’ve seen worlds rise and fall in greater spans of time than you may live to imagine. We need not the so claimed craftsmanship of you and your kin.”

The desire to step between them grew within me, but I knew that it was not my place on either side of this. I would do neither party any justice with interference, no matter how greatly I wished to end the tossing of insults that I felt as though were hurled directly at me. But it seemed I was not needed to defend, though I had not thought I was. Kíli did not cower from the challenge or daggered words that Thranduil attempted to ensnare him with. My feelings for him were only thus strengthened, weakening my spirit as I felt my hold with him slipping after our failure to communicate.

“I am sure, King Thranduil,” Kíli bowed his head for form as he followed Thranduil’s movements with his eyes. “That we might come to some accord that pleases us both. Is there nothing within the mountain that you may be in need of?”

Thranduil’s back was turned to Kíli and myself as he poured wine into a chalice for himself. I dared to look at Kíli then. Here was no confusion or timidity about his rank or station. At that moment, I could easily imagine him as a strong and fierce ambassador for his kingdom. Though I had long known he could hold sway with many, it was his own doubts of his abilities that I worried might impede him most. But there was something to his tone that perhaps only I was aware. Kíli was holding back and there was more he seemed willing to offer if only asked the right questions.

“Need? No. It is not I who comes seeking aid with little to offer in return but an empty promise of goods and a once well respected captain of my guard.” He turned to consider me. “And a captain not wholly well, but injured within your mountain.”

Though he made no sound or movement, I could tell Kíli was struggling not to respond to the careless comments made about promises and my injury. Thranduil signaled subtly to the guard that they were relieved. All but Tawarthion removed themselves from the platform, and he came to stand at ease beside me. Had I been away so long that I no longer understood the actions or motives of the King who I had nearly loved as a father figure for centuries? I wondered some at if he believed Kíli was returning me to him.

“We will speak no more of this tonight. Tawarthion will show you to a guest chamber as I require an audience with our captain.”

Kíli was not so diplomatic when faced with being parted with me, again his actions giving me more hope than I dared hold on to.

“I owe your captain a debt and will not retire until we are both released to do so and I am satisfied of her safety.”

Thranduil stepped close to him, bending slightly with a sneer on his lips. “Perhaps you would prefer your previous accommodations. That can be arranged if you so wish.”

Before Kíli could return his words with a fresh insult that would land him in worse than his previous cell, I stepped forward.

“It has been a wearying journey, my Lord, and I did also give my word to escort him safely.”   
  
Thranduil stood and looked at me long and thoughtfully, as though he was trying to ascertain the truth of my words. Though less than satisfied with what he found in my eyes, he consented to a momentary reprieve. “Tawarthion will see to it that you are escorted back to me once our dwarven guest is settled. Do not keep me waiting.”

He turned to climb the steps to his antlered throne as Tawarthion quietly led us away. I knew he had a great many questions that he would not ask in the presence of Kíli just as Kíli had questions he would not ask in the presence of the elf. When we arrived to one of the simple and self contained guest quarters, Tawarthion waited in the hall as I entered first.

Kíli followed close behind and pulled me to the other side of the room from the open door. “At least this looks more comfortable than that rock of a bed in your prison cells. Do you know what he wants from you?”

I spoke quietly, choosing my words carefully as I knew the elf waiting would still hear. “Beyond my departure from these halls, I cannot say. But I must go to him now. I will return as soon as I can.”

As I turned to leave, he grasped my hand until I faced him. “Is it a promise?”

I searched his eyes, searching for a foothold for the feelings I would try to push aside before facing Thranduil. “Will you not be reckless?”

He nearly smiled, “I will be as cautious as a fox.”

“Then it is a promise.”

 

*    *    *    *    *

It was not the throne room that Tawarthion guided me back to in silence. It was a more personal chamber in which I had once often had occasion to call upon the king with reports. He motioned towards the wine but I declined. He sat and invited me to follow suit. This was not something I had often had occasion to do. He rarely if ever requested anyone sit in his presence as equal.

“You are well?”

I felt dumbstruck.

“My Lord?”

“You have been from these halls more than one moon’s turn and return in unusual company. You must be well enough to have traveled the distance in such a time.”

I hesitated for a moment. “I am well.”

“Though not as well as you should be. You favor your leg and a wound that is not healed as it should be.”

I thought it odd that he had seen me so short a time that he might have noticed. I was more than aware of it and had tried to limit any demonstrative movements to give away the injury.

“You do not hide it as well as you think. This is some new injury since last you found yourself in these halls. Why did you not request a healer right away?”

“I have been tending it myself sufficiently. It will heal in time.”

He hummed, though it did not seem to be in agreement. I did not see the need to include the assistance of the dwarves in my healing or how I incurred the wound. He was visibly less than satisfied with my answer. There was more he wanted to say on the subject, and an order to attend the healer might still come. But he left the topic of my injury at that as he studied me. If elves were more of a nervous disposition, I might have squirmed in my seat at his stare. I decided to direct the conversation back to our purpose.

“He has no incentive to deceive you, my Lord. His only motive is the welfare of his people and kin.”

He sipped at his wine. “You both say he is not king under the mountain but merely an emissary. Interesting that you have come to be his protector as such. The guards tell me that he rather tried to protect you. Though perhaps this should not surprise me so greatly.”

“I believe a debt was owed.”

“As much he said himself. Though he is the wiser that he owes you a greater debt than either of you recognize.”

I wondered at his meaning, but knew that he was well aware of my following the dwarves to Laketown and healing Kíli’s morgul wound. There was no further debt he owed me as it was not me who brought him back from the brink of death. At least I could not imagine it to be so as I had grieved so deeply.

“His living is not my doing.”   
  
“You lent him your healing when he was struck with the morgul shaft.” Though I was not surprised at his knowledge, I was startled by his admittance of it. He merely tilted his head, crossing his leg and draping his long brocaded cloak around him. “Your motives were clear when you left us, even if they were not clear to yourself.”

I sat straighter in my seat under his gaze as it felt probing upon my skin.

“But he has wounded you,” he murmured. 

“This was  _ not _ his doing, my lord.”

A shadow of anger crossed his face as he leaned forward. “No, and yet you are diminished.”

“I do not understand what you mean.”

He rose and spoke with his back to me as he refilled his glass. “You have been favored in this kingdom for centuries, Tauriel. Since the day I brought you into these halls. Do you think my notice of you was so shallow that I would not see the wounds that brought you to the healing chambers here once before have yet to close? Do you doubt your path or your heart?”

“I… Did you mean it?” Of all the unspoken words, the conflicting turmoil of my once admiration battling the personal discord that I felt for this king, this is what burst unbidden and unexpected by us both from my lips. “When --”

“When I told you it was real.” I watched him as he paused in thought. “You will go to Rivendell.”

I surged to my feet, ignoring the tingling in my leg. “My Lord, we do not have the provisioning for the journey and the dwarves are expecting our return.”

He turned with an impatient look in his eyes. “Long have I sensed restlessness in you and a desire for more than what lies within our borders. Now you shy from a chance to see these other lands you were once so compelled to defend? You are young yet and recently not wholly yourself. You will go. Take the dwarf with you. I will have an answer to his query upon your return.”

I was given no chance to refuse or to ask what of my own question as he turned away and left me alone in the chamber with my thoughts. Did he know more of my time with the dwarves than he let on, or more of Kíli’s recovery? He gave no opportunity to question his motives, though for the time I had long lived in this kingdom I knew that he was never so inclined to share them unless it suited his purposes. I was frustrated that I was yet again being ordered to a task with little of my own say in the matter, and it reminded me quite clearly of why I had initially left this fortress in the first place.

Any of my previous guard that I passed on my way back to the guest quarters were quick to step aside and out of my path. Perhaps my frustration was worn too clearly on my face. I found a guard outside Kíli’s door and nearly growled.

“Is it necessary to guard a  _ guest _ of the king who comes to negotiate trade?”

He shifted under my stare and stepped aside. “Captain - I merely am following orders.”

I sighed audibly. “Yes. I recall such orders well. But you are not needed.”

Though he did not block my entrance as I reached for the door, he also did not remove himself from the premises. He held my eyes apologetically for a moment and I merely groaned as I entered, knowing Thranduil had ordered a watch regardless. It was clear he felt I was not to be wholly trusted.

Kíli jumped from the bed where he had been lying with his hands behind his head tracing the inlay patterns of the ceiling in boredom.

“I was starting to worry. What did he want?”

I silently marched towards one of the chairs opposite the bed and slung my outer traveling cloak across its back. I sat and began to remove my boots and laced cuirass before looking up to his expectant eyes. The hope I found there had me looking back to my laces as I knew I might be cracking at it with my answer.

“He is sending us to Rivendell. For what purpose, I cannot say. And before you ask, he has no answer to give you on trade as of yet. He claims he will upon our return.”

“Rivendell? To Lord Elrond? Where’s the sense in that?” He hummed thoughtfully as he sat in a chair opposite me. “I can’t say I’m altogether displeased to go back, though.”

I paused to look at him again in question before laughing deeply at his response:

“They have wonderful bathing fountains there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (in case you missed the translations up top)
> 
> Sindarin translations:  
> "Mae govannen" - Well met  
> "Edlennen” - exiled  
> “Tolo.” - Come.
> 
> **  
> Up next on our journey is Rivendell! Maybe more questions, but also some answers. And even a few cameos ;) But one of my lovely betas has given me a prompt that may mean a sort of........ mini chapter (if you will) in between this and Rivendell, just for a little extra perspective. I hope everyone is off to a good start this year and I can't wait to share more of this story with you all! <3


	30. The Problem with Assumptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt from one of my beta readers won me over, so we're going to backtrack for a moment to get a little perspective from our favourite dwarf. But don't worry, Rivendell awaits us in the next chapter!!

_**The previous evening - on the shores of the Long Lake**_  

Was she serious? Sure, dwarves may not always be completely celibate before marriage, but they also didn’t go around teasing others, or making promises, or behaving in ways that made you think you might be intended and were promising themselves to you. There had to be some mistake. Maybe he misunderstood what she was trying to say. Maybe he’d been rash in his response and should hear her out. So he stood to go back to her and began to move back towards the tent.

But this sinister little itch had him questioning if she’d just been taken all along. He supposed that maybe he had been clueless in the dungeon and she was only being polite when he didn’t get the hint she had no desire to search him. Turning around, he sat in a huff on the log and kicked at the fire. Perhaps it was some perverted sense of elvish pride or honor that meant they had to keep their prisoners alive. After all, Legolas had been with her at the river and had interrupted them at the lake on that very shore. He vaguely recalled seeing out of the corner of his eye a flash of him dandying about in the battle. They’d probably just come to fetch the lot and take them back to rot in the dungeons. That’s what Thorin had implied.

She was always just slightly distant enough too - allowing him to get close but only to pull away again. What other reason was there? She was over 600 years old! It had to be the king’s son. He’d seen the way the elf looked at her on more than one occasion. And he hadn’t been so utterly the fool to not notice the fall of that skinny blond elf’s shadow when they spoke between the bars of his cell.

When she followed him outside, he was trying to drown that dark voice and see reason, but he couldn’t wrap his head around her pulling away yet another time. He couldn't understand where that nagging doubt had come from when he'd felt so sure of nothing but her until now. And her explanation of marriage and sex being the same sounded like a lot of elvish prudeness and excuses to him. She hadn't really seemed to be one for either. He was still sorting it all out when she sat across from him and he couldn't quite look at her. So the words had spewed forth harsher than he could have intended and to his dismay, it only got worse.

She wasn’t apologetic. Of course not, he thought, quite ashamed of himself. She had been hurt. He could see it in her eyes when he did look up, feel it feeding her rage as she gave him what he realized was a very well deserved tongue lashing. He tried to quell her hurt and anger as she lashed out at him when he stood to stop her. He didn’t need a translator to understand her words were harsh insults. But she was vibrating under his hands when he stood in front of her and it was a war within him to let her go. That she felt the need to lay apart from him had struck him with greater pain than an arrow. He deserved it.  For not hearing her out and jumping to conclusions. For being a daft idiot.

Did he care if she’d been with another? Not at all. Hadn’t he had some of his own exploits? Granted, she’d probably had many more than him. But that was besides the point. It didn’t matter. More concerning was her implication. If she had been with another? Elves didn't separate or remarry even after the death of their partner according to her. Surely had she been married she wouldn't have led him on this way. He had to have misunderstood. Though his uncle had long said that elves couldn’t be trusted and would turn their back on you as soon as look at you, Kíli sensed a similar level of loyalty that ran in dwarves.

Ultimately, he knew his own feelings well enough and maybe that was the problem. Perhaps it was his own feelings that had influenced his faith that hers were the same. But then why would she come after him? And save his life? More than once. More than twice! Hadn’t she just agreed when he said his feelings for her couldn’t be changed? Yet he’d reacted without thought as if she was plain refusing him. He felt helpless and infuriated at himself.

Even now with no other conclusions he could imagine, he knew that assumptions had led him here. He'd made an ass of himself and had no intentions to repeat anything of the sort if this was the end result - laying against a cold log unable to rest because all he wanted to do was soothe the hurt he had caused and draw her close. It felt wrong to go very long without her in his arms.

And so he was restless through the night, watching the stars slowly meander their way across the night sky. Looking upon them thoughtfully for perhaps the first time, he began to wish he could see the precious and pure memories that Tauriel spoke of. He couldn't stand it any longer so he went to fetch a blanket with the intention of taking it to her. She had gone off to rest without any extra layers for warmth, and while he was sure she was fully capable of handling the temperatures as he was, it was the perfect excuse to approach her and draw her to him again. If he could win her over once he could do it again. Mahal help him, he was an idiot for needing to try!

When he had gathered a blanket and was searching quietly through his saddle bag is when he found it. The parcel that Balin and Dain had authorized them to use for bartering trade from Thranduil. He'd completely forgotten about it and imagined it might be wise to know just what he was going to be using “if all else failed”. He drew the box from the saddle bag and peeked over at Tauriel, seeing that she had her face turned away and was most likely to be asleep. He slowly opened the lid for fear of creaking, and instead had to quiet a sharp inhale of air when the contents nearly blinded him with the reflection of the moon and stars.

He had never seen such gems before even in all the mining of Ered Luin. They were set in silver metal that snaked like liquid on his fingers as he drew the necklace closer to study in the moonlight. He imagined it, for a mere moment, glistening and sparking with the light of an engulfing auburn fire. This was truly a precious thing, and how Balin and Dain had come to know or find it in the vast horde was beyond him. Further confounding was that they believed this would be of great value to Thranduil, when all he had heard from so many was that elves did not have the same proclivity for greed as did dwarves. But if they were right… If this necklace truly was something that would sway Thranduil to their aid, perhaps he would find a way to leverage them as best as possible.

Before replacing the box in his saddle bag, he quickly found a piece of parchment to tear and scribbled out a note for the king of Mirkwood. If his last encounter at the stronghold of the elves was any indication, they would search either (and more likely both) their persons or their possessions. Even though he hadn’t been searched by a particular someone. But it was possible and probable. So he laid the note within the box and replaced it with the rest of his things, further buried beneath extra clothing and provisions.

The next day she was quieter than usual and had rebandaged her leg before he even had the opportunity to approach her. But he only kicked himself for that. Or would have if he could. As they approached the forest and passed by the river lock, he saw her shift in her saddle and he rubbed absently at his leg. When she asked him if it bothered him still, he didn't know what she meant at first. He had seen her discomfort and believed that perhaps it was her own feelings that he had noticed and felt. After a moment, he realized it was likely both and maybe their connection wasn't completely lost due to his ineptitude at communication. He worried at having to face her king if he could fumble so badly with her. What he wouldn't give for brotherly advice right now.

But at least she was speaking to him, even if in a more barbed and tight lipped manner. He’d get a smile out of her yet, and when he did, he would apologize. Maybe plead if he had to, just to be in her good graces so that she’d be in his arms. Because he had to have been wrong. He’d fallen for her, been revived by her quite literally, and the feeling had never gone away. And everything that they’d said and done felt to him as though they were promised. Perhaps their courtship was not structured and usual in the eyes of dwarven customs, but neither had been their meeting and descent into their… whatever they were.

He got his smile. Even a laugh. He got a humorous insult sent his way and thought how his brother would have teased him for actually enjoying the way she called him dwarf with mock disdain. It brightened his spirits, and as they entered the forest he thought he’d get the air cleared before they got to the King. It would be too distracting to try and barter with a king he barely knew, playing the role of ambassador which he’d never done before, all the while caring mostly and solely about whether or not Tauriel felt as he did and could forgive him his idiocy. He'd wasted plenty of time already not discussing strategy with her because of either being lost in his own head over cryptic dreams or causing a rift.

It was past time for an apology, he decided as he moved his horse besides her. But the elves interrupted even that. Damned woodland sprites, or so Dain might have said. It seemed they were always in the way much like his own kin - and when no one was, he was in his OWN way or she in hers. Idiots. All of them.

So he kept his mouth shut for the most part and only fidgeted with the collar of his cloak once. By the time they arrived to the throne room, he assumed they’d have had plenty of time to check the contents of their possessions. He started to wonder if his note had yet been found or made known to the king, but at no point did Thranduil comment. So he blazed ahead the only way he could think of - as directly as possible.

It didn't seem to go very well in his own estimation considering he was threatened with another stay in their dungeons simply for not wanting to leave Tauriel’s side. He could do nothing right by elves apparently. If this continued, Erebor would have an atrocious ambassador in him and they'd likely all starve this winter. Wonderful.

It was nerve wracking to be separated from her though her comments before leaving had lightened his heavy heart some. If only he had received a little more guidance as to the ways of ruling, this might not feel so strange or difficult. All he could think about as he paced the room before collapsing in a frustrated heap on the bed was what his uncle or brother might have done. How they might have done a better job. His uncle was fierce and brave and Kíli had loved him like a father. But his stubborn pride and vengeful temper had nearly cost them their freedom from Thranduil’s dungeons once before. He was forced to admit that Thorin hadn’t been in his right mind in the last of his days when he failed to honor his word and nearly incited a battle between them and the elves and men. So he imagined he might not be as terrible at negotiating as Thorin had been. His brother would likely have brandished one of his well hidden daggers before listening to more of the king’s lofty insults. Thranduil hadn’t exactly been a peach. He was haughty and proud and unlikely to give way to anyone’s wishes or desires but his own. If it did not suit the king’s purpose then it would not be done.

It infuriated him how Thranduil had admonished Tauriel in front of others he had to assume she might once have called friends and comrades. It took a great deal to bank his own temper and his instinct to draw his blade against the insult. It was one thing to insult a dwarf, but another to insult their family or… what was she exactly if not that? The person he loved. He did love her whether she might act on her feelings or not. If his kin had succumb to greed for gems and gold, he thought he might be saved from that. The only gems he desired were the emeralds of her eyes. He could care less for the heat and fire of a forge any longer as the only fire he wanted to touch was her hair and feel the warmth of her next to him. If that should ever come to pass when he managed to remove his foot from his mouth, of course.

He was lying on the bed, thinking over the mess he had made with her, hoping he hadn’t made one with Thranduil, and fiddling with his collar when he heard her voice outside the door speaking with the guard that had been stationed there. He hastily refastened his shirt at the neck and tried to relax before her entrance. She seemed more hollow and haunted than before. And angry. This was not likely an elf that he would see in his arms again this evening, so instead he made her laugh and warmed both their hearts in the process.

He satisfied himself with grazing his fingertips along hers as she slept on the bed beside him, and took it as a good sign that she let him rebind her leg in the morning before they left the forest. He worried that mentioning their evening at the shore might reopen the hurt that they were both trying to move away from if not at least put aside until a less unsure time in their journey. For now, he would take refuge in knowing that all was not lost between them and that they were traveling this road together. He would spend the nights on the road wishing each new moment with her onto a star in the sky, and mapping them into his memory.


	31. The Last Homely House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness! I am so sorry my dears for such an extended delay of this update. I did not believe it had been so long since my last update, and I have been traveling and getting settled in for another semester of work work work... Thank you so much for your patience and for all the lovely comments and kudos! If you're just joining us, welcome! Thank you to all the new subscribers!
> 
> So here we are, finally coming to Rivendell and Elrond! Are you excited? I'm excited. Here we go!

We had left the halls of Mirkwood the very next morning for the long journey to Rivendell, well provisioned at Thranduil’s orders. A raven had been sent by Thranduil at Kíli’s request to inform the mountain of our delay, and we watched it climb into the sky above before returning to the road. We had made fast work of the miles from Erebor to Mirkwood, but the path forward may not be as smooth or perhaps as peaceful if any orc had not been dispatched with. Though there was no date by which we were told to reach Elrond’s city within the mountains, winter was our driving force to ensure trade supplies reached Erebor and Dale.

And so it came to pass that we found ourselves riding hard and fast when the footing allowed it, covering ground in a blur that left me wishing for more time to embrace yet another journey that was taking me farther from home than I had ever been. For all my years of living in the world, I had seen so little of it until now. And I was in awe in a way that even I felt was foolish. If Kíli thought me foolish for my awe at the greatness of the Anduin or jagged snow capped peaks of the Misty Mountains, he did not comment. Instead, he seemed to encourage and relish in my frequent desire to appreciate the new expanses before me. Each time I realized I had frozen in place at the vistas before me, I would turn and find him staring at me with a soft smile on his face. Each time he refused to tell me why he was smiling.

Much of our path took us through routes that Kíli remembered, and he wove stories of their adventures whenever we made camp and sat for dinner at the fire he so deftly sparked to life. Though speaking of his last times through these regions brought upon him memories of his uncle and brother, his sorrow and grief seemed lessened. I could see the spark in his eyes when he spoke of his brother especially, and sense him willing the joy to replace the sadness.

He told me of the hidden tunnels that led to their brief capture by the goblins beneath the mountain, and so we carefully traversed the narrow footing of the High Pass’ lower route. Although we had been warned that the lower path was often riddled with orcs, we rode quietly with weapons ready but never used. No hindrances blocked us and we made better time than we expected. Conversation was easier than had been initially, and the lengthening silences became more comfortable than strained. If we each recalled our missteps on the shores of the Long Lake, neither of us spoke of it. But the distance between us would always become apparent in the night when we found ourselves at arm’s length  - and less than a moon past we had been intertwined in our sleep. I could tell that there were many moments he wanted to reach for me and stopped himself. I knew that my withdrawal from him had contributed, but the twinge of heartache caused those nights past still lingered.

It was the last evening we spent in the pass that sent me into his arms once more. When my wakeful rest turned to a deeper sleep, it brought with it dreams that twisted into dark and ruthless images. Before my eyes, scenes blended what had occurred at Ravenhill with Thranduil and Dain’s disapproval and sentencing. I woke with a strangled scream in my throat and Kíli had me firm in his embrace almost before I knew I was truly awake. The terror tore through me, leaving its fingers of pain radiating through me like needles. In that moment, I forgot what words had been used as barbs and clung to him as though I was reliving the fresh jolt of his loss. That night, Kíli rested with his back to the cold rock wall as he cradled me against him. He began to hum some melody that I had not heard before and lulled me back to sleep.

I felt yet drained in the morning, and so we took our time to traverse the rocky paths that day. It was altogether a slow trek and it seemed as if we might never reach the valley. But the pathway became more clearly marked by small stones both white and moss covered, so we grew hopeful that we were getting close. As the pass dropped lower and lower from the heights of the mountain, we came around a corner to a steep fall in the path that sloped and zig zagged steeply down into the secret valley of Rivendell. We could see the light of the setting sun sparkling on the open pavilions and walkways that seemed to hover above the rushing waters of the Bruinen and its tributaries.

“The valley of Imladris.” I whispered in reverence almost to myself.

“What does that mean?” Kíli asked me.

“Imladris is the name of this place. In the elven tongue.”

We stood for a moment as I emblazoned the vision of the sparkling city to my memory, before making our way down the rocky steps and bridge to the vale below.

 

*   *   *   *

 

“I see your appetite is much the same, Kíli.” Elrond raised an eyebrow at Kíli as he watched him hastily tuck into the meat on his plate. The provisioning we had been given was not quite satisfactory for a dwarf. I subtly nudged his foot beneath the table so that he might look up from his plate, and once more before he could speak with his mouth full. He swallowed and took more notice of his surroundings. Thankfully, Elrond had been accustomed to the dwarves even briefly at their previous stay, so he continued with a soft chuckle and a whisper of a bemused smile on his face.

“We did not expect to see you here once word spread of Erebor’s reclaiming. And in the company of one of Thranduil’s greatest warriors no less.”

I bowed my head to him. If Thranduil’s gaze made me feel exposed and vulnerable, I could not find the words for how it felt to have Elrond’s eyes upon me.

“There are many greater than I, Lord Elrond. Yourself included.”

Again, he raised a brow in my direction though he smirked at my compliment. “It is no small thing that word of your deeds in battle and your aid in the quest of Thorin Oakenshield and his company have come to me. You must know, Kíli, that Gandalf passed this way not long after and in the company of a particular hobbit whom you may be acquainted with?”

Kíli blurted out, “They passed through here?”

“Of course. And that is why I am all the more surprised by your visit.” He leaned forward almost imperceptibly and spoke softly as though just to us. “It was they who bore us news that Thorin Oakenshield and his kin had perished at Ravenhill. I believe you were one of the fallen - or Bilbo would not have borne such news. Odd, that he should be so mistaken.”

In truth, Elrond had caught the frown that covered Gandalf’s face and the grumble under his breath. At the time he had thought it the frustration at how their journey had ended. But perhaps it was a lingering question in his mind as to the validity of Bilbo’s assertion. Gandalf was not always quick to share his misgivings and their visit was too short to question him further. Elrond may see reason to request his presence once more, and sooner than later.

“Thorin did, yes. Along with my brother, Fíli.” Kíli looked to me briefly, sadness swamping his eyes for the briefest moment before returning the elven lord’s gaze. “I thought myself gone, for a time, but -” he paused with no explanation or understanding to relate.

“But here you are,” Elrond completed. “Sister-son of Thorin Oakenshield and the Captain of Thranduil’s Mirkwood guard.”

He smiled kindly at us and nodded to one of the elves who moved slowly around the table to refill our glasses with wine.

“ My Lord Elrond, we were sent by Thranduil.” I said, knowing that he might already know this as well, or at least have guessed. Something about his countenance gave me the feeling that he knew more than he might willingly offer.

Kíli had easily polished away the meat on his plate and more rolls and cakes were placed on the table, though he sat still and focused on me before turning to the wise elf at the head of the table.

“We sought to establish trade once more at the request of Dain, now King under the mountain. Many of our people will be coming to Erebor to help rebuild and we seek supplies for winter.”

“Erebor is welcome to establish trade with Rivendell, though the road between is long and unkind as you yourself have witnessed. For more immediate need, your nearer neighbors would be well suited. Has Thranduil declined you?”

“Not so directly. He insisted we come here before he gave an answer. But did not tell us why.”

Elrond steepled his fingers together as he sat back in his chair.

“No. I cannot imagine that he would. But I do not think _that_ is why he has sent you to us.”

Elrond looked more purposely to me. Kíli’s eyes met mine and we were both questioning what he possibly could mean when several elves came to play music for the guests and serve more food to keep up with Kíli’s appetite. We spoke little more of our purpose at dinner as Elrond asked after the rest of Thorin’s company and how our road had been from the wood. I was once again about to breach the subject of why he thought Thranduil might have sent us to Rivendell when we were joined by a few others, some familiar, some not. Lindir who had initially greeted us led the others to the table. Behind him was a young boy with dark hair and piercing grey eyes that spoke of greater age and knowledge than his appearance. But it was the last who possessed a very familiar face that gave me great joy to see.

Legolas’ eyes met mine and I could not help but stand and smile as he approached. He looked to Elrond and bowed his head briefly before turning to me. We grasped forearms and greeted one another before taking our seats again. The boy sat beside Kíli as Legolas sat on my right. He grasped my shoulder and smiled lightly.

“It is good to see you, Tauriel. I have thought of you often since we parted ways.”

“And I you, _mellon_. I did not expect to see you here but wondered at your absence from the Greenwood.”

He shifted and I saw there was much for us to discuss but I could also see that he did not feel comfortable doing so in front of Elrond and the others. “I left my father’s halls shortly after you. But when did you return?”

“Master Kíli and I rode there to garnish trade for Erebor. With little luck.”

“This is no great surprise. He held no great love for your people.” Legolas directed this to Kíli, who had sat quite tall in his seat. There was only a brief moment of tension and wariness as they curtly nodded their heads in acknowledgement of one another. I felt caught between what ideas Kíli had expressed and a long friendship.

It was then that the boy spoke. “Are you from the same great wood as Legolas?”

I nodded. “I am. My name is Tauriel.”

“ _Mae govannen, Tauriel._ I am Estel. Legolas mentioned you. He told me you and he hunted a pack of over 30 orcs together.”

Kíli looked somewhat startled to hear this, and I felt slightly bewildered by the idea that Legolas was sharing anything about me to these individuals.

“Yes, it is true that we did.”

“I’d have very much liked to see you catch them.”

Elrond looked on slightly disapproving. “Estel…”

Kíli leaned towards him and said in a hushed tone that he agreed, and that his mother used to smack him and his brother upside the head whenever they discussed unsavory things like murdering orcs at the dinner table, but they couldn’t help themselves. Estel was quick to recover from his brief moment of embarrassment for being scolded and asked a great many questions about Mirkwood and Erebor, and where Kíli had come from in the Blue Mountains before. He was curious about the hobbits and all the wilds they had seen as well, since he told us he had lived all of his 11 years he could remember in Rivendell and seen little if any of the world beyond. In that sense, he reminded me greatly of myself - an orphan hidden away from the world under the care of higher elves. He talked of how, when he was old enough and his mother could not stop him, he hoped that he would go on great adventures and see all of Middle Earth there was to see.

I watched the ease at which Kíli interacted with him, more at ease and energetic than he’d been in recent days. Unbidden and unexpected thoughts crossed my mind as I wondered what he might have been like as a child, and what he would be like with children of his own. A mixture of pleasure and heartbreak joined the thought of him with children and I felt another piece of my heart crack. I could not tell what our future might hold together or apart.

It was at that moment he caught me staring at him, his eyes sparkling with laughter at something Estel had said. He seemed to question my expression, but he did not say anything to draw attention to the flush that had risen in my cheeks or the tears that had gathered in my eyes. Instead, he asked after our horses and if he might retrieve our things. I did not notice that while I watched Kíli, Elrond was watching us both carefully. He smoothly turned to Kíli and smiled before bidding Lindir to show us the stables. Legolas and Elrond took their leave of us together.

As we had been unexpected, rooms had to be made ready. In the meantime, Lindir and Estel gave us a brief tour of the valley. They indicated where we might find an archery range for any practice we may require while staying in Rivendell, and Estel asked if we might share our experience with him since Legolas was helping him to focus more on knives and swords when they practiced. Lindir also was particularly clear to point out where there may be paths that led to springs or pools for bathing that might still be acceptable to Kíli in particular instead of their fountains. I had to hide a chuckle at this and explain to Estel that I had heard the _last_ time the dwarves visited Rivendell, they had bathed and caused a scene in one of the central fountains. He laughed until Lindir turned a sharp eye on him.

We parted ways on the main concourse overlooking much of the waterfalls below after being shown the pavilion where our rooms would be. Estel, who had confessed a great love for the horses, took Kíli to gather our things from where they had been stabled as I stood watching the sky turn from dusk to dark above the rising mists of the confluencing rivers. It was there that Elrond found me.

“I have not seen anything like this valley in all my days, and think I never will in those to come.”

“There are a great many things to see in this world and fortunate are the ones with the time to do so.”

We shared a comfortable moment of peace, looking at the fading light.

“You have both come a long way with a heavy burden and are welcome to stay as long as you wish.”

I turned as he came to stand beside me at the banister. “I thank you, Lord Elrond. While I would, I believe there is an urgency for the dwarves of Erebor.”

“You seem greatly invested in the business of the dwarves for someone who I understand was once their jailor.”

“They are not the people I thought them to be.”

“Oh?”

“They are more honorable than I was led to expect. And more stubborn.”

He chuckled. “Indeed they are. King Thranduil has his own reasons for his prejudice. But not all dwarves hold greed in their hearts, and not all wise men are free from corruption. Dwarves are also not the _only_ stubborn ones. You do not ask it, but I believe you would be more comfortable if you allowed another to work at your wound. It is clear you are not healing and your strength does not return fully.”

I turned from the view to face him. “My Lord? It has been slow to heal, but I am not sure what you mean.”

“Do you not?” He looked at me intently. “Come with me. Perhaps we can answer more questions than one.”

 

*    *    *    *    *

 

After examining my leg and applying his own expertise, another of his healers cleaned and rebound it before leaving us alone.

“Your connection to Kíli is quite clear. Yet you question it. There can be both wisdom and danger in waiting. Not all chances are given twice.”

“I… I believe our connection is that of allies and friends.”

“No. You do not. But your memories still puzzle and plague you. Tell me.”

Elrond poured water for me as I recounted my time in the battle for Erebor. While he had asked some questions of my time in the mountain and more on how Kíli had fared, he grew increasingly insistent on hearing all I could remember. I drank deeply and he refilled the glass again. When he then began to ask of my early days in Mirkwood and whether or not I remembered much of my parents, I paused.

“My lord? I do not know what this has to do with my healing or the reasons we find ourselves your guests.”

“Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal. For now, I should allow you to rest. I would like to reexamine your wound tomorrow if you are willing.”

I agreed as it felt much better from the time with Elrond and I welcomed the relief. “Will you tell me what you meant before?”

“Not all is clear to me as yet. Your rooms will be ready now and rest will aid in your healing. We will speak more tomorrow.”

We took leave of each other and I meandered back towards the pavilion, letting my thoughts wander as I enjoyed the quiet peace of this place and the lack of any barrier to the open night sky.

 

*    *    *    *    *

 

Kíli had taken his time wandering down to the stables, exploring more than he had the first time he’d been in Rivendell with his kin. Thorin had not been so happy to be there and didn’t join them in their drinking or revelry. Because he hadn’t, of course, he’d found out the secrets on the map that led them to the back door of the Mountain. Still, the memories of making a mess of the elves’ abode wasn’t one he’d want to trade. Bombur breaking their table brought a laugh to him even now.

He shared much of this with Estel until, on their leisurely walk back up to the rooms, they were stopped by Legolas.

“Your mother and Lord Elrond would speak with you Estel.”

He nodded his head and bowed briefly to both before turning to the main house. Looking back once, he thought he could see the tension sizzling in the air between them.

“You look well for someone we believed to be dead.”

Kíli bared his teeth as he grinned. “Seems you underestimate the fortitude of dwarves.”

“Perhaps.”

“If you’ll excuse me -” Kíli adjusted one of the bags on his shoulder and made to move past when Legolas grabbed him by the arm.

Kíli simply froze and glared up at him. “As I’m not your prisoner any longer, I suggest you watch where you place your hands.”

Legolas may have had a great deal more to say, but I came upon them just as he lowered his hand to his side.

“Legolas. Kíli. Is everything alright?”

They maintained eye contact with each other another moment before Kíli turned to me with a smile and walked towards me.

“Absolutely. Are the rooms ready?”

He continued walking and so I turned with him, glancing back to see Legolas watching us walk away.

“I believe they are. But Kíli, what did Legolas say to you?”

“Nothing of importance. What did Elrond say about your leg?”

With no clear answers to give, I told him what little Elrond had said and that I was to see him again tomorrow. Kíli paused at the bench near our pavilion and rolled his shoulders after unloading our things onto it.

“So he does not think this is normal. You should have healed by now. Why haven’t you?”

“He did not say. He seemed unsure.”

Kíli stepped forward and ran his hands along my arms, something that Ori had told him worrying in the back of his mind. “How do you feel? Perhaps you should rest. We have been on the road some time now.”

I smiled at him. “I am well. Lord Elrond helped some.”

“Does he think maybe… Maybe what Ori said is right. Perhaps how you helped to heal me has affected you greater than you thought.”

“That was over a moon ago, Kíli. If that were true, I am sure I would have felt such effects sooner.”

He rubbed my arms, his warmth reaching me through my clothing.

“Tauriel. We haven’t spoken of it, and we should really talk about -”

Lindir appeared from around the corner, eliciting a rather pained and frustrated groan from Kíli as he dropped his hands to his sides and grumbled to himself.

“Ah, Kíli, Tauriel. Your rooms are ready if you’d like to follow me I can show you to them.”

I faced him. “I thank you, Lindir.”

We followed him first to my room where Kíli began to enter after me until Lindir politely redirected him.

“Ah, master Kíli, we have another room for you.”

His brows knit and he nearly laughed. “Oh, that is not needed, I am sure. But thank you, Lindir.”

Before he could step forward any further, Lindir blocked him slightly. “I do apologize, Master Kíli, but it is not customary that you should share rooms. Please. I will take you to your quarters. They are not far.”

I watched a myriad of emotions cross Kíli’s face and for a moment wondered that I might intervene before he simply barged his way in. But he glanced at me and nodded slowly.

“To be continued,” he said.

I had little doubt about the topic he had begun to bring up when Lindir had come upon us. The relief I had been given from Elrond and the overwhelming tranquility of this place might finally allow  us a less hurtful dialogue. Heeding the advice of both Kíli and Lord Elrond, I changed my traveling clothes for the softer garments they had provided me and lay upon the bed with the windows open wide so that I might watch the stars sparkle and listen to the rushing waters below as I fell into sleep.


	32. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, I missed the perfect opportunity to update on Valentine's Day as a way to say I love you to my readers. But still... I love you! Thank you for reading along and all the kudos and comments. It definitely keeps me going! Updates are a little longer in between with school and work interfering more than I'd like, but hopefully you find them worth the wait.
> 
> Here we have a little bit of insight into Elrond's thoughts on our favourite elven warrior, some amusing banter (at least it gave me a chuckle), and some revelations for our pair.

It was no surprise really that he found himself restless. How many times, he wondered, would they be interrupted from bringing closure to the open wound he felt was between them after that night on the lake? It was infuriating. Still, she needed her rest, so it would not be tonight. But he had too much on his mind to sleep, and felt too out of place to be comfortable enough to rest. It was well past midnight, so he imagined he would find himself left to his own - though he knew elves did not normally sleep in the same way that he and his kin did.

Gathering his bow and quiver, Kíli quietly left his room and wandered the lantern lit pathways and down the curving stairs to the area Lindir had indicated as an archery range. It wasn’t the same as he might have found in Erebor or any of the dwarven kingdoms. The ground was grass rather than rock or sand, and targets were much further away in a range of heights and positions. He looked forward to the change of pace and the challenge. Dwarven ranges were often much too close sighted and uninteresting as not so many dwarves were as interested in archery as he was. No practice arena he’d used before had been so open or invigorating. No wonder he’d always been labelled a little odd for a dwarf, loving the open, choosing seemingly elvish weapons.

He looked up at the night sky as he stretched his shoulders and filled his lungs with the crisp scent of the surrounding beech and oak trees. In the weeks prior in Erebor, he had spent a great deal of time inside and working on his sword skill with Dwalin, proving to the tattooed warrior and himself that he was much stronger than expected after all his injuries and maladies. More than just recovered, he seemed stronger than ever with a renewed strength that went well beyond anything he’d possessed before. It was about time he test this new strength with his bow since the road had been thankfully empty of orc and any other foul creatures.

The discomfort he felt at setting his arrow to the string was not painful, thought he could feel muscles stretch and pull that he’d yet to use in the weeks gone by. He let the arrow loose at one of the nearer targets, for his bow may be smaller than needed for the longer shots of distant targets. But with every twang of his bowstring he then aimed further and further until finally he had loosed all the arrows in his quiver. He retrieved them and began again, increasing the range of his aim until one fell short of its target by an inch.

As he walked again onto the grass to retrieve his arrows for the final time that night, he did not notice his host turn from one of the balconies above and return to his council room.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

The quiet of night in the valley always brought clarity to his thoughts. Elrond stepped out into the crisp air seeking the space to let his thoughts form without the input of those he called advisors. As he did, his eyebrow arched in intrigue at the small figure making its way down the steps. He watched with fascination as the figure took its time to take in the surroundings and the range and layout of the targets. It was odd, he thought, that he had not noticed this before - though he had been more focused on Tauriel. To what other distraction, he could not owe the error, but he observed more carefully now.

A faint light seemed to shimmer about him, and though he remembered that the Durin sons who had passed through his valley showed quite strong fëa - some more than others - he knew he would have remembered this. This spiritual illumination that lingered about the dwarf was not something he had witnessed in one before, as the fëa of Durin’s line carried a different hue of blue flame than the shimmering spirits of gold and silver that illuminated the first born.

But here was a bright burning core of blue flame mingling with golden sparks of light. An interesting development indeed. He remained at the banister, watching Kíli draw arrow after arrow, wondering at these turn of events. Before he could call upon one of his most trusted and knowing companions within, the young dwarf missed his final target and set his bow down. Seeing that his guest’s activities for the evening were done, he slowly returned inside.

Erestor poured more wine into the glasses of the other advisors before his own. The chief counsellor turned, his sharp grey eyes meeting Elrond’s as he entered.

“Well, my Lord? What say you?”

Taking his time to collect the new thoughts and possibilities within his mind, Elrond took a slow turn around the room before returning to his seat. He nodded in thanks when Erestor approached to refill his glass as well, and waited until they were all seated once again to speak.

“I feel that Gandalf was right. Our defenses in the East are strengthened, and more than he perhaps foresaw.”

The counsellors looked to one another as though one of them may hold the key to his cryptic statement. Even Glorfindel, having immense foresight and gifts more powerful than many of his kin knew not of what he spoke.

“The wizard does not always share all,” Glorfindel commented.

“Indeed, he does not.” Elrond paused and thought long as he sipped his wine. “But let us return to that which is at hand - trade with Erebor. Erestor, I would see a report of our greatest needs by tomorrow’s eve. Glorfindel, impart the guards’ needs so they are included. If our supplies survived the last visit of the dwarves, perhaps we can arrange to send food and wine by week’s end as well. Lindir?”

The youngest at the table by elven standards, Lindir forced himself to keep an impassive face. The desire to sigh or roll his eyes at the mention of the last visit of the dwarves was great. Though he had no ill will towards them, they had wreaked their fair share of havoc on the house. He had barely missed being pommeled in the face with a cake thrown by the very same dwarf that was now their guest.

“Yes, my Lord. Our stocks have recovered some. Enough that we might spare a _few_ barrels.” Under his breath, he added, “They’ll surely finish even _those_ in a single night.”

A smirk lingered at Elrond’s mouth, knowing full well Lindir’s thoughts and recollections. “Good. Then we will meet with our guests tomorrow after dinner to come to an accord.”

Erestor and Lindir both bowed their heads and parted company. As he went to stand, Glorfindel hesitated. His fair and joyful face became pensive and concerned. Elrond simply waited, knowing he would eventually share his thought.

“What of Thranduil’s captain?”

“Hmm.” Elrond remained seated and steepled his fingers together. “There is a cold spreading within her and a wound not fully healed. She carries more than her scars alone and I sense a greater power within her than she may aware of herself. There is more to this captain than eyes alone can see. I’d like your opinion on this as well, Glorfindel.”

“You are known to be fond of strays, Elrond,” Glorfindel said in humor.

“Perhaps I am. In this instance, however, who would I be to turn from kin?”

Glorfindel’s face registered slight surprise, but equal parts curiosity and amusement. “Do you believe her to be kin, Lord Elrond? Surely we would have known. Thranduil would have imparted this knowledge sooner, would he not?”

Elrond’s eyebrow arched. “Would he? I do not know that he would. Or that he would know. It is perhaps long removed and faint but there within her flows the blood of my brother.”

“This cannot be.”

“Can it not? My brother’s daughter long spent her years among the elves, and though she lived a mortal life, the children she bore carried hers and elvish blood. In the long years after, I heard nothing more until it came to pass that Thranduil took in an orphaned child not yet 20 when the convoy in which she travelled was set upon by orc in the Gladden Fields. From what the captain has told me, she may be this child.”

The two were silent for a long time, respectively seeking the sight they possessed. Glorfindel was first to break the silence.

“Then a choice is before her.”

“And yet the life of the Eldar fades from her.”

“You believe she has decided?”

Elrond thought for a long moment on his answer, “No.”

Glorfindel pursed his lips. Though he had yet to meet either party, he had long been able to understand the subtleties of what the master of the house left unsaid. “The dwarf?”

Elrond simply nodded.

“You do not think he knows,” Glorfindel noted by the expression on Elrond’s face.

“No, he does not. I was not looking before, but around him is the light of the Eldar - more than the flame of Aule alone. He is a son of Durin. Honor and greatness lie within him and long years he has ahead. But you will see for yourself when we meet again with Tauriel that there is a fault line between them at greater cost than either realizes. Now, the choice made by one lies before the other.”

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

The morning saw great activity in the house of Elrond. Two rangers had come to rest on their journey north, and spent a great deal of time in conference with Elrond. Estel had come to greet us early in the day hoping to learn more of the dwarves and hear more of Kíli’s travels when his mother and Elrond would not let him meet with the rangers. I ushered them along, ignoring what protests and apologies were offered, and agreed to meet with them shortly at the archery range. The greatest of my weariness had left me with the passing of the night and I found myself longing to explore the gardens of the valley. I took with me the texts that Ori had given me in the hopes that I might find the library to help me in translations. As I stepped out of my chamber, I quickly came upon Lindir who offered to take the texts to Elrond so that they could be fully transcribed. Though I would have happily aided the effort, I knew that my knowledge was limited, so I bowed in thanks and was left to wander.

No matter how long I felt I had explored, it seemed there might always be more to discover. I saw many a fair face in passing and discovered that there were but two reactions to my presence. By most I was greeted with kind welcome, as though a guest like any other of the house of Elrond. There were some, however, that while greeting me in kindness also held a look of suspicious speculation. More than once I could hear the slightest of whispers between those that passed when I was greeted as such. Though it piqued my curiosity, I found it difficult to be troubled in such a refuge as this.

The air was both crisp and cool without the bite of winter that was touching the peaks of the surrounding mountains far above. The scent of flowers and trees hung in the air as though summer still lingered, and I found myself nearly forgetting my agreement to meet with Kíli and Estel until I heard the twang of a bow string from the open garden on the level below. I watched the two conversing easily with humor as Kíli demonstrated some of his more uncommon strategies. As he held the bow low and horizontal, drawing the bow back, I stepped forward quietly. I was strangely tempted to interrupt but waited until he had hit his mark.

“It is luck that has you hitting your target in such a fashion,” I commented as I approached.

They were smiling as they turned.

“Well met, Tauriel. Will you join us?”

“Well met, Estel. Yes. Hopefully he has been advising you well and not spinning too many tales.”

Kíli chuckled. “None that weren’t at his urging.”

It was not long before all our instruction and conversing turned to competition. Estel grew immensely amused as he watched us argue.

“It has nothing to do with how big it is.”

“Of course it does!”

I scoffed in mock disdain. “It is not my fault that my bow is larger than yours. Nor the fault of the bow that you cannot cover the distance.”

His eyes went to slits. “Hand it over.”

“What?”

Kíli practically shoved his bow up against mine in an attempt to prove his point. He held his empty hand out waiting. “Give it here. Let’s settle this.”

I laughed. “You cannot be serious!”

But I saw that he was and quickly sobered.

“Kíli. This bow is far too large for …”

“Go ahead. For what? For a dwarf?” he said before snatching my bow from me and thrusting his own into my hands.

I kept my mouth shut at that, as there had not really been another word that had come to mind. Estel had chuckled softly enough that Kíli did not hear as he turned to the targets. True, he _was_ tall for a dwarf. But my bow seemed to be well oversized for him. He had been in a restless mood all morning, desperate for something to do. While the valley seemed to bring me back to a peaceful and rested center, it brought him an increasingly boundless energy. We had been shooting targets for what felt like hours and the sun was falling in the western sky. When he let the arrow fly to hit the distant mark, I felt relieved that perhaps we might end this competition.

“I dare to call it a tie,” said Estel as he stood from the bench.

“Well then. I believe that settles it.”

“Do you mean to say I was right?” Kíli grinned with pride.

“You are greatly skilled, no matter the size of your bow.” I picked up my quiver and slung it over my shoulder with my bow as he collected the last of the arrows. “But I never said otherwise.”

“It was implied.”

“Oh Valar, Kíli! Can it not be said that we are equally matched? Indeed I said nothing to the contrary.”

A tall and surprisingly beautiful elf with long flowing golden hair stood under one of the arches as we passed. He stepped before us and interrupted our bickering as we took the steps back up towards the main house, his melodic voice perfectly matched to the angelic countenance resting upon his youthful face.

“I have not heard such bickering in many ages.”

I bowed to him. “My apologies, my lord.”

“I am Glorfindel. And please. No offense is taken, and it is not as though quarrels are never seen within this valley. It is in fact a refreshing change of pace that it is _not_ over the kitchen supplies or the words of a wizard.”

Kíli rested his bow before him. “There cannot be any great discord here, can there? It seems altogether too peaceful and pleasant.”

“We still see our share. Be it of great import or otherwise. Though it has not been since Celebrían graced this valley since I’ve witnessed such impassioned competition. As I recall, she and Elrond would often find themselves at odds over their combat skills.”

Glorfindel fell in step beside us.

“Was she a great warrior?” Kíli asked.

A small but bright and angelic smiled graced the elfs face. “She was powerful in many her own right, but was in fact, his wife.”

I felt Kíli’s eyes dart to me and heat rise on my neck. Glorfindel had quite clearly and purposely pointed out a fact that was not lost on either of us that our bickering was like that of the long married couple of the house before her departure west. We neither of us could quite make eye contact with the blush that crept upon our necks, so we continued to follow. As we reached the main terrace, Glorfindel turned to us.

“Lord Elrond has asked that I assist you with your wound today, Tauriel. Estel, if you would take her bow and quiver to her chamber for her?”

“Yes, Glorfindel.”

He turned to Kíli. “He has also requested to meet with you before dinner to further discuss how Rivendell may be of assistance to Erebor.”

Kíli straightened and bowed his head to the elf. “Ah, thank you.”

“You will find him in his library in two hours time.”

Kíli and Estel parted from us, Kíli glancing back to me once with a smile that warmed me. I followed Glorfindel to the same chambers which Elrond had brought me to the evening before. I watched him as he went through well practiced motions of cleaning, dressing, and bandaging my leg. It was hard to take my eyes off the elf’s bright beauty. In Mirkwood only Legolas and Thranduil had such complexions of fair hair, and though I knew it was not precisely uncommon, Glorfindel’s features were striking. I seemed to lose track of time and awareness as he completed the task.

“Will you remain for a moment? I believe Elrond would like to speak with you.”

“Of course.”

He left me alone and I went to the balcony and watched in the distance several of the horses grazing in the lower pastures of the valley as the spray from the rushing falls misted around them. I imagined that even with my love of the forest, I could happily remain in this place for as long as the elves were to remain in Middle Earth.

I sensed Elrond’s presence before he spoke, and turned as he came to stand beside me at the banister.

“Glorfindel tells me that there is much improvement.”

“I believe there is, my lord. I feel that no malady could remain here should it try.”

He turned to pour wine from a carafe for us both.

“Though the wound will heal, your strength is still not recovered. You carry the burden of loss.”

I shook my head and turned to look out upon the valley. “What I once believed lost was returned, so I do not know the burden you see.”

“I believe there is much you have yet to learn. But what will you do when it is all laid bare before you? What choice will you make?”

“That I cannot know until I am faced with it, can I?”

He frowned and turned to walk as we spoke. I followed him along the path towards the library I had been hoping to see. Paintings hung illuminated by glass filtered golden sunlight. The library was blissfully quiet and peaceful, barely disturbed by a breeze. There stood a statue of a hooded woman holding an elven shield upon which lay broken pieces of a glittering sword. As I passed what I imagined to be an heirloom of some kind, I caught sight of the large mural across from it.

What mirrored a shattered piece of the sword on the plinth behind me was held aloft, shining brightly amidst the shadows of the enemy. The dark shadow that loomed over Isildur sent a shiver through my spine.

“Isildur’s last stand turned the tide that day.”

I would have been greatly enthralled by the painting but just now I was too distracted by the solemn face and tone of my host.

“Will you tell me what you see, Lord Elrond? What it is that troubles you? What choice am I faced with and so unaware of?”

He smiled kindly at me as he drew back several curtains to allow more sunlight to fill the space.

“I see a great many things. That you give of your heart but doubt. You possess a power you do not know you wield.  And more, I recognize some of a kindred spirit of someone known to me in ages past.” He motioned to a chair, “Please, sit.”

He drew a volume from the shelf before sitting opposite me. He looked long in my eyes before he began to tell me of the family I had never known.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Kíli found the library just as I was leaving in a rush of emotion. His being there startled me and I froze for a moment.

“Tauriel, I -” he paused when he saw the paleness of my face. It was plain for him to see that I was both saddened and shaken by some of what I had learned, the full weight of Elrond’s admissions resting upon me.

“Are you alright? What has happened?”

I saw in his eyes deep wells of concern as he stepped forward. But I shook my head and turned to go, hoping for solitude with my thoughts so I might make sense of everything.

“Tauriel!” he called after me.

Elrond appeared in the archway and placed his hand on Kíli’s shoulder before he could follow. “Kíli,” he said, “Let her go. She will need some time to settle in solitude.”

Still, he watched me go.

“What happened? I cannot let her suffer alone.”

Elrond smiled, amused.

“No indeed. But she will hardly be alone with you at her side.”

Finally, Kíli turned to face the lord of the house who bade him inside. He fought the urge to follow the direction his heart had fled and followed Elrond into the library, watching as he replaced a book to its place among the stacks. His back still turned to Kíli, he went to pour wine and spoke softly.

“I know your mind and heart are elsewhere, so I will not keep you long.” He held out the glass to Kíli, waiting patiently as the dwarf looked out towards the pavilion that housed their rooms. He continued once Kíli’s attention had turned back to him. “My council and I have discussed what we would like procured from Erebor for the exchange of what goods your city may need. While this was your purpose at journeying to Thranduil, I understand this is not why you find yourselves here. But we will assist as we can.”

Kíli was desperately trying to focus on what Elrond was saying but was equally proving him right that his mind and heart were elsewhere. He could not help but think of Tauriel and what had hurt her to illicit such sadness on her face. Indeed, the last time he had seen any similar expression was before she had raged at him upon the shores of the Long Lake. He listened as Elrond told him what simple arrangements they thought best, and nodded in agreement.

“But the future of Erebor is not one that should worry you. Other futures hang in the balance that may still be lost.”

Kíli had wandered closer to the window as Elrond had discussed the trade plans, but at this he turned suddenly.

“Whose future? Will you not tell me what was said that hurt her?”

Elrond’s smile was kind and gentle, a hint of pity in his eyes. “It will be her choice to tell you. Not mine. You each possess the power to sway the other but for the stubborn pride within you both. What I can offer you is only the knowledge of long years among our kind to bring light to any shadows of doubt that linger in your mind.”

“It is not I who doubts.”

“No. The doubts you harbor came upon you long after your decision was made. But where you are quick to know your heart, those who live long through the generations of man are not so quick to give of themselves.” He rested his hand upon Kíli’s shoulder and smiled once more. “We are not so frequently or greatly moved. It can be a most unnerving experience to those new to strong emotions. And you are both young yet. Patience is difficult for those who do not face eternity, but patience you must have.”

Kíli sighed.

“It is not patience that escapes me, Lord Elrond.” The words were out before he could stop himself, “I am afraid it is my heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright my loves. Maybe not the advancement of the plot you were hoping we'd get to just yet, but it's coming very very soon! Next chapter will be looking at quite a bit of K/T time. I know you've all been waiting for some resolutions and happier times. Al...most...there! ;)


	33. Closing Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have some more revelations though maybe not unexpected ones, and some quality time including, yes finally, conversation between our favourite couple.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos since my last update, and welcome to those of you who have newly found this story! Updates have definitely become more sparse with all that is going on in my life currently, but there is no foreseeable abandoning of the story in my future. I appreciate the patience and the continued support and enthusiasm that this story has elicited so far! Thank you so much! Enjoy!

I rushed along the pathways and terraces, my mind tumbling in turmoil like the rushing waters below. It wasn’t until I came to the building that housed our rooms that I stopped, leaning back against one of the arched columns and breathing heavily. From where I stood, I could see the archery range on a distant terrace below. Had it been just today that I had stood upon that grass laughing with Kíli and Estel? It felt like ages had passed since that moment when peace had begun to return to my center.

I turned away as I saw several inhabitants of the valley making their way to dinner. There was too much for me to process to be in anyone's company now, and so I was grateful for the solitude though I deeply regretted causing the look of hurt upon Kíli’s face as I fled the library. But it was not so often that you were given missing pieces of what you did not remember of your family. Not so often that you were told of the histories of where you came from. Or the choices you had to make.

I paced my room, unable to assemble the jagged pieces of thought, before deciding to heed the advice of Lord Elrond with soaking in the private bathing pool below our rooms. Though the pool was open to the sky and looked out upon the converging falls and rivers, it was well secluded to protect the modesty and privacy of any elves that may guest in that house. I left my clothing neatly folded on the bench before sinking into the warmed water, ripples lapping over the edges and feeding into cascading pools below. It was no instant cure to the tumultuous thoughts that ran unbound in my head, so I leaned my head back on the tile and looked to the stars as I struggled to make sense and come to terms with what I had learned. I heard the echo of Elrond’s words as the scent of athelas permeated the air.

_ You are kin to me, lost in the ages, but a clear distant daughter of Tindómiel. The daughter of my brother. _

It seemed near impossible to believe. I knew of Elrond through what I had heard in my years in Thranduil’s forest. There was no knowing of what could be true or stories that lose merit over the centuries. I had myself told Ori that he descended from Lúthien and therefore one of the Valar themselves. This was one of the many reasons of his great healing abilities, wisdom, and foresight. It was altogether unbelievable to be faced with all that it might mean to have my own place in that line.

The doubt that had fallen on me was not because I doubted the memories of Elrond. The memory of some elves reached back to the Elder days; and they did not forget easily. More, it was that I felt little power within me to indicate what he claimed I should have. Yet as he told me what he knew, the faintest of memories seemed to blossom before my eyes when he had told me of my parentage. Dim recollections of a mother gifted with a healing touch. A heightened sense of what might come to pass. And a more impassioned nature than any of those I had come to know in my life in Mirkwood. If all this were true, another painful thought came to mind.

What if the one who had saved me and fostered me had known and hidden it? Though I had not wanted for anything in Thranduil’s realm, I had always felt a sense of separation and loneliness from the others within the caverns and forests of the Greenwood. If Thranduil had known, surely he would have sent me to my kin. But instead, he had cared for me and trained me and watched me excel in my position while forever letting me believe I was never quite the equal of his son. And now. Now I had a choice of what life I might embrace.

It was all too easy to become overwhelmed at the revelations of my ancestry and the burdens that they carried. Elrond had said that my ability to aid in healing Kili after he was wounded by the poisoned arrow was due in part to that very ancestry. Were I given the opportunity, Elrond said I could have learned to become a truly gifted healer with the blood that ran in my veins. And still, there was more.

_ The power within you to heal others is much greater - or could be still. But it takes great skill and practice not to lose yourself in the process. I fear this may have come to pass - but your course may yet be changed. _

I had so desperately needed air. Something to ground and center me as I felt the turmoil of questioning who I really was and what course lay before me.

And there had been my anchor as I stepped outside, smiling at me before he faltered at the look on my face; before I turned from him, just as I had turned from him at the lake more than once. Was it fear or doubt that moved my feet? If I had given myself out of my hope to heal him, then I did so willingly and without qualm. I knew that I would do so again and in that knowing felt at least absolved from doubts of my own attachment. 

I sank deeper in the pool and tentatively ran my fingers over the stone on my necklace as I thought how I had given up such a great deal to save him more than once. To stay beside him. Thranduil’s words had rung in my ears on more than one occasion -

_ You think it is love? Are you ready to die for it? _

I had been ready. I believed I was still. Had he not himself come to see the truth in it that day on Ravenhill? That day, I would have traded places and given up the long years of immortality to see Kíli’s smile grace Arda again. While Thranduil appeared to think that foolish folly, Elrond had imparted a very different message that became a seedling of thought now trying to sprout. The words had not been so direct even if the meaning was clear: living for it could prove much harder.

I forced myself to rest my wildly weary mind and let the fragrance and the warmth of the water seep into me as I washed, relaxing away a great deal of the tension I carried. Holding my breath, I sank below the surface, completely free of thought and pain for that weightless moment. As I surfaced, the light of the moon broke brightly through the thin cloud layer as though greeting me once again. I gazed up upon its silvery face before closing my eyes to listen to the night and soak in the warmth and essence of healing in the athelas infused water. The scent wove its way around me so that I felt wrapped in comfort much as I felt in Kíli’s arms before we had fought. When I woke in his arms after being strangled by nightmares. It allowed me the peace I had been searching for in days passed. I was lost in my meditation and did not hear the footfalls behind me, though I felt a change in the air, the quickening tempo of my heart.

I turned quickly and made to reach near the pools edge for daggers that I had not thought to bring, though they were yet unneeded even if my instinct was for them first. At the realization that it was Kíli, my heart calmed until I remembered that I was quite bare beneath the steaming water. But it was not the fact that Kíli was stood there that reminded me of my exposed state. Nor was it the crisp air on my warmed skin. It was the change of his expression as he discovered that I was bare. He had frozen to the spot and attraction was plain on his face. It took me sternly saying his name and the instant mortification of being so stupified that had him spinning so that his back faced me.

“Tauriel! I’m sorry. I… I had thought to… I did not expect… We finished our meeting and I… I was hoping to… Really, I didn’t mean to… I wouldn’t have…” he stammered as he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot with his hands over his face.

I knew that my hair had likely helped to cover some of my body, but I did not plan on continuing any conversation so exposed. I found myself less bothered than I would have expected, but where he stood was blocking my path to my clothing.

“My… garments are just beside you there.”

He cautiously removed his hands and opened his eyes to gather my clothing for me. I intentionally adjusted my hair just in case, but when he turned to me, arms outstretched, his eyes were closed and he turned his head aside. To alleviate our shared embarrassment, I took and slid the dress on quickly. His eyes still closed and head turned away, I leaned in and gently kissed his cheek, lingering a moment at the feel of his stubble and the smell of him that mingled with the athelas. He gently took hold of my wrist as I stepped back.

“You don’t have to go,” he smiled.

“It’s alright. You should bathe as well.” I began to walk away, looking over my shoulder at him. “And not in the fountains.”

He grinned sheepishly.

“I will be in my room. I’m not going anywhere.” With that, I quickly made my way back up the steps to my room.

 

It was not a very long time that passed before he knocked at the door I had left open for him.

“I did not mean to intrude, before. I came to see how you were. I was worried.”

I was trying to brush through the tangles in my hair when he entered. He had obviously rushed to join me, the dampness of his hair and clothing evidence.

“I am sure you did not. But it is alright, Kíli. As I said. Do not make yourself uneasy.”

He stepped forward and offered to help with the tangles that remained.

“I’m rather practiced with the knots that Fí used to end up with in that mane of his.”

I smiled and nodded once before moving to sit on a cushion on the floor. He sat on the chair behind me and ran his fingers through my hair, working at the tangles from the ends first.

“Your hair must rival the unbraided length of Bombur’s beard! And that is a high compliment. You must be the envy of all the Elves.”

I smiled. “Perhaps in length, but not in color.”

“Why?”

“It is not the fine silvery blonde or raven black of the high born. While colors may vary some, such reddened auburn is... It is seen as undesirable even if admired.”

He seemed appalled at the very idea as he reverently ran his fingers through my hair, sending shivers along my spine. “It is like fire when the sun rises or sets upon the day. It is beautiful and bright like a beacon. Something to be admired  _ and _ desired.”

I blushed, thankful that he could not see, for a wave of timidity had come upon me. “Thank you, Kíli. It is also thought to be a sign of …”

“Of what?”

I sighed. “Of an impetuous nature.”

The brushing stopped. I turned slightly to look over my shoulder. Kíli was smirking at me, clearly trying desperately not to laugh.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, but I…”

My brows creased together. “What is it?”

He laughed. “It is clear we come from different worlds. But sometimes, something reminds me we are not so different.” He tugged gently at a tendril of my hair, tipping my head back slightly so that our faces were closer than before. “ _ That _ is just another word for reckless.”

I stared at him for a moment before I stood sharply and turned to the balcony for air, suddenly choked by his closeness, his laughter, my longing. He came to stand behind me, his voice calm but sharp.

“You do that too much.”

I turned back to him. “Do what?”

“Turn away from me. Time and time again.”

Had I not just thought this, I might have felt insult. But as it was, I felt ashamed. Knowing my actions spoke differently than my intention, I whispered “I do not turn from you.”

He stepped forward, a flash of anger on his face but tightly constrained.

“I asked you to come with me, so it was not I who turned away at the lake. It is not in my blood to walk away from who I owe my loyalty. And my life,” he said, carefully restraining himself from shouting.

“It was not a choice I was free to make then.”

“I understand that a great many things have come between us. But I no longer understand your doubts. Do you doubt me? Have I not told you how I feel? What are you afraid of?”

“I do not doubt you, Kíli. I -”

Words escaped me. I felt my heart in my throat and the sting of tears in my eyes, but I had nothing to say. I had continually been foolish, and though I could hardly say it now, impetuous without forethought of all the consequences of my actions. And perhaps it had been fear that kept me from acting upon my desires. Fear that I would lose him all too soon and my heart would be better served by maintaining an iota of distance. But now I knew otherwise.

His fingers brushed down my forearm and he took my hand, leading me back to sit in the chair. Saying no more, he returned to brushing my hair before beginning to braid it.

“I can do th-”

“I know how you like it,” was all he said. 

And so he braided my hair in silence while I swallowed my heart back in place, trying to will no tears to build or fall. He not only did the braids as I did them myself, but better and wound the full length into a neat column down my back so it wouldn’t tangle in sleep. When he was done, his fingers grazed my neck and lingered there. I could feel his breath upon my neck, warm and soft and inviting. I wanted to turn into him and end this separation. I had resolved to and was about to turn around when he professed that he was done, his words sending shivers along my spine with him so near me. As he stood and walked towards the door to leave, I went quickly after him.

“Kíli wait. There are a great many things unsaid between us, but I would not have you leave my company thinking I…”

He stood half way between me and the door, waiting. The look of limitless patience that had returned to his face worked towards soothing the worst of the jagged edges of my emotions.

“Thinking that I do not want you here. Please stay.”

My heart caught in my throat yet again as he came to stand before me, his dark eyes piercing through me before he touched his forehead to mine. 

“On one condition,” he said.

“What is that?”

“I came to find you right away after I left Elrond. I’m starving and you need to eat though you’ll deny it. Let me get us food while you rest?”

I laughed and agreed, retiring to the bed as he rushed off. When he returned, I was comfortably hovering between sleep and meditation, my eyes closed and my mind wandering. Painful though it was to think of, I had been remembering my appeals to the Valar as I lay across Kíli’s broken body begging that his life be returned to him, willing my body and spirit and heart to follow him. It felt like ice filled my veins to remember the feeling that he was gone from me. But the lingering pain of memory eased away as I felt his weight shift upon the bed, his arm come around me to pull me against him.

" _Amrâlimê_ .”

I opened my eyes and looked up at him from where I had willingly let him curl me against his side.

_ "Burushruka igbulul e.” _

“I do not know what that means. I’ve not learned your language.”

“You won’t find many willing to teach you. I’d get a lashing if anybody found out I said a word of it in front of you.” He smiled. “I said, I’m sorry.”

“As am I, Kíli.”

I moved to sit up, crossing my legs as I sat to face him once he sat more upright. He waited briefly as I could not find where to start. Handing me one of the plates he had brought from the larder, he held out a small pie for me. I appeased him and took a bite before he took his share.

“Tell me what had you running from the library earlier.”

I shook my head as I swallowed another sample of food. “I was overwhelmed by all that Elrond had told me.”

He patiently, expectantly, waited. I sighed.

“I am his kin.”

He shot up where he sat. “What!?”

“I never knew of my family. My parents were lost when I was young and I was raised by Thranduil. Elrond tells me that I come from a child of his brother.”

“What does this mean?”

“That I… Honestly, I do not understand it all yet myself. Not nearly well enough to make sense of it to anyone else.”

“Alright. We will solve it together. But first,” he said as he stood from the bed and went to the door to lock it having forgotten to do so when he returned with food.

“What are you doing?”

“Preventing interruption.”

I felt nerves rise within me. He turned back and came to sit before me once again.

“Tauriel, we have to talk about what happened. There have been enough interruptions and… well, I angered and hurt you and for that I’m sorry. I do not want anything to come between us any longer.”

“Nor do I, Kíli.”

“Then tell me what I don’t understand. We cannot continue this way.”

I sighed, “I do not wish to repeat or hear you repeat what was already said in anger. We have misunderstood each other too greatly already.”

He ran his hands down my arms and linked his fingers with mine. I looked at his hands, strong and sturdy, and knew the pain it would cause me to ever let them go.

“Then I will promise to bite my tongue.”

My eyes remained on his hands, remembering that he had thought ill of his hands in comparison. Turning them in mine, I once more traced the lines on his palm.

“Not so long ago you thought your hands too rough. Do you remember what I said to you?”

“Aye, a great many complimentary things. You said that you found nothing wanting and there was no comparison. That you did not wish to know another’s.”

I nodded, my fingers still trailing patterns on his palms, my gaze still fixed.

“To that I hold.”

“Then do not pull away from me and do not lead me on in my desire for you. What do I have left to prove? How can I give you what you ask of me more than I have? I have already died once to save you. I made a promise, Tauriel. I don’t intend to break it now. Not ever.”

I looked up into his wanting eyes, my heart tripping over itself that he continued to stand by his words.

“If we do not have the same values then how can we want the same things?”

He grew exasperated and stopped my hands by grabbing them firmly in his. “Speak plainly, Tauriel. Let us be done with what stands between us!”

“Kíli…” I closed my eyes for a moment and sighed, trying to will back the strength that had evaporated. No one before had the power as he did to make me feel so empowered and weak at once.

He was still and quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a tone of tension as his patience began to wear thin. “I remember your words well. That for elves, marriage is eternal. But you also said,” his eyebrows drew together in confusion as he tried to really understand. “Marriage and intimacy are one and the same. But I don’t…”

“Yes. I meant quite plainly I have never been married or laid with a companion. And so I have no comparison to make.”

His face gave me no clue as to his reaction. “How can that be?”

“Your hands,” I took them in mine again. “Have no comparison because I do not know another’s touch.”

He simply stared. And swallowed. “Surely that’s not… But what about… You’re over 600 years old!!”

“I am well aware of my years.”

“This is what you were trying to explain to me. This is why you hesitate or pull away? You’ve never… you’ve _never_?”

I raised an eyebrow at him and he apologized, though my heart sank somewhat. “Dwarves do not view marriage the same, then,” I said, fully aware that in this regard my age did not mean more experience.

Kíli scratched the back of his neck. “Well. We do not view  _ all _ things the same, but some we do. Not everyone waits for marriage, but most take the act as a sign of betrothal. And I’ve never known a dwarf to marry more than once, and some refuse altogether.”

I questioned him as his fingers trailed gently up my arm to smooth my hair over my shoulder. “Why would they not? I know only of why the elves feel so.”

“If they fall in love with someone who does not love them back.” He met my gaze as he spoke. “Or someone already married. They would refuse to marry anyone else.”

The weight of what we had shared hung heavy between us. His fingers continued to weave through the hair that fell across my shoulder. His reaction had told me a great deal. I could gather that his stance about laying with another was not as serious as that of my people and it was unlikely that he was equally untouched as I was. More telling though, and something that I had not realized until now had been so needed to be stated clearly, was his reaction to the belief that I might have been married. His response upon the lake shore came before me in a new light. Now knowing how dwarves viewed marriage, I wondered, and the hope that we had truly been wanting the same from one another and unable to say so rose within me.

Could it be as simple as that? Were we both so caught up in our respective ways that we could not see what was plain before us? That we were protecting ourselves from each other when wanting precisely the same thing?

“Kíli, I’d not have told you as I did had I understood where your thoughts might lead. For my lack of directness in days past, I am sorry.”

“Perhaps we both made fools of ourselves. I am sorry for my part in equal and indeed greater measure.”

I felt his pulse beating hard and strong against mine, the rhythm of my heart matching his like an answering call.

“You were angry with me.”

“I did not understand what you were saying.”

“You thought I was married. Or did not…” His eyes darted back to mine when I paused. “That I did not love you.”

He laughed as his shoulders relaxed, tension seeming to seep away before my eyes. “It was not a dream was it?”

“What?”

“Acorns beneath my head, and a shining elf-maid above me as I hoped she could have loved me.”

Kíli’s hand came gently around my neck and he drew me close, brushing his lips on mine like a whisper before kissing my forehead. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around him as he did the same, drawing me onto his lap to hold me close. My head resting on his shoulder facing his neck, I inhaled deeply the rich sweet scent of his skin as I felt his heart beat against mine, and felt the rawness of some of my wounds finally begin to close. 

I turned to look out the window, my head still resting upon his shoulder as he stroked his hand down my back.

“You do not ask the same of me.”

I pulled back only the distance that he would allow, unsure of his comment.

“You do not ask if I have either married or laid with another. Which I haven’t.”

I shook my head though I felt some relief. If not for feeling somewhat drained, I may have been tempted to tease him. “It matters not.”

He looked puzzled. “Why? When it mattered so greatly for you, does it not for me?”

“Because it would change nothing. I gave what was left of my heart to a fallen dwarf on a battlefield, after he had already stolen a part of it.”

His eyes swam with emotion, deep pools of rich brown flecked with gold.

“Kíli, my heart will follow you even in death. It is no longer within my grasp.”

I felt his heart trip, skipping a beat, before he drew me against him once more.

“It is safe with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:  
> “Burushruka igbulul e.” - I’m sorry. (as stated by Kíli - literally it means: "It pains me greatly”)


	34. Bound by Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! I can only say how sorry I am to have left everyone without a taste of our favourite couple for so SO long. It wasn't due to any writer's block but a great deal of work and personal issues going on over the last month or so. My ability to dedicate the time I would like to this story has definitely dwindled, but my love for the story and our characters has not. I will tell you honestly there may be a similar long wait for the next chapter until some of my workload dies down. BUT!!!
> 
> I believe - or hope - that this chapter will appease my absolutely lovely readers who are desperate for some Kíliel focus. Thank you as always for the comments, kudos, and subscriptions! And welcome to the newest followers, I'm so glad you've found this story.
> 
> Also... this chapter now leads us to change the rating from Mature to Explicit. And I hope you enjoy it.

With the greatest of our misunderstandings behind us, separating us was no longer an easy feat. That Elrond had informed his council to not disturb us was not something we knew, nor the indignation on Lindir’s face at the seeming impropriety of it. But it allowed us to pass the night in easy conversation and slumber through the early morning in each other's arms once more. Unlike the days past, we found an easy rhythm between us. Kíli was not swayed to leave my side even when Elrond himself came to redress my leg, and only agreed to meet with the council if I was permitted to attend.

It felt in many ways as though finally resolving our differences had removed a great deal of my worries even if not all. When his fingers brushed mine, I did not resist the contact when in the presence of others as I might have before. There was solid ground beneath me once more and I felt more assured that I was neither alone in my feelings or being foolhardy with someone who might see things in a different light. My decision was made all the more simple.

Though he did not say so in as many words, Elrond was pleased at the progress of my leg and felt it had healed more in the last day than previously. When his eyes met mine, I knew that his more public musing about the potency of the athelas in my bathing pool was not so much for my ears as others. His eyes told me what I had concluded without understanding. I took a moment when we had walked towards dinner to pause with Elrond alone and confirm my suspicions outside of Kíli’s hearing.

“You are linked. Your fea and his. Though he owes his recovery and perhaps even his life to you, you are yet to be returned what you gave. This is not something even I have seen and I am tempted to seek another’s council. For now I cannot say how this occurred, but the light of the firstborn will continue to fade if you hesitate to seek what you are owed and rightly deserve.”

I thought long on his words through dinner, distracted often by the flutter and swell of my heart at every wink or smile sent my way from across the table. It took a great deal not to laugh when Kíli mistakenly nudged Glorfindel with his foot. The angelic elf merely cleared his throat and looked more bemused than bothered, but Kíli’s face fell into a resignated embarrassment when the elf nudged his foot in the proper direction towards me. I would later find out this was not the first time he had been mistaken at the dinner table in Rivendell.

We were requested to remain for wine after our meal and music on the terrace, and so when finally parting ways with our hosts Kíli took my hand in his.

“I want to show you something.”

We walked in comfortable and contented silence through the buildings and grounds, music still playing distantly from the house above. Tucked away down less frequented paths and around one of the lower garden levels was a secluded pool that lay almost even with the river. The waterfalls that fed into the river towered above, roaring their flood into the basin and shrouding the air in a fine mist spray. Behind us, the lights from the Last Homely House twinkled like fireflies in the mist, the terraces shining in moonlight under a starry dome. I laid on the grass and watched the mist sparkle in the light with the stars as he sat beside me leaning back upon his elbows.

“It is beautiful, Kíli. Thank you for bringing me here. It is magical.”

“I thought you’d like it. You can see more of the stars further from the house lights even though the moon is almost full. There is a long platform that Elrond showed to my uncle and Balin when we were here before. I imagine you’d see them best from there, but I haven’t found how to get there just yet.”

I smiled, knowing he would keep looking with the hope of finding me a better place to visit with the stars. We stayed as we were for some time, enjoying the crisp air, the sound of the water and the light of the moon and stars.

“Do you miss it?” he asked.

I turned my head to him. “What?”

“Your home in the Mirkwood? Walking in starlight with the world falling away. I worry sometimes you will regret leaving.”

I looked once more at the stars for a long moment before turning as I sat up to face him.

“It is not the wood that I miss. And while my love of the stars will never dim, I would rather walk in this world with you. My only regret will be not doing so sooner.”

He drew me to him and kissed me until the only light I could see was his own, shining like a beacon of home. I shivered but not from cold, and he drew me to my feet. Again we fell into a silence still comfortable but with a thickness to the air that surrounded us. Even as the tinkling of the chimes and harp grew closer, they seemed as distant as the thundering rush of the waterfalls. I could only hear my heartbeat and his as we walked back towards our room, my hand in his.

 

Still, we were not unaware of the gazes sent our way. It was not the first time we had been on the receiving end of odd and speculative looks. More so when Kíli touched me in any way no matter how casual or innocent. Many of those who lived in Rivendell did not have a great deal of exposure with dwarves other than the time a band of thirteen descended upon the valley. His grip on my hand increased with every passing glance that fell on us as we made our way back. The thickness of the air between us had changed with every perceived offense and Kíli had finally had enough, his frustration rolling off him as steam when we returned to our chamber.

He was exasperated. “Would we be plagued by scornful offensive looks no matter how long we remain here? I thought elves were supposed to be wise. Why do they fail to understand so much?”

“They see two very different people and have opinions of their own. They would not want any but an elf for one of their kind.”

I sat in one of the large chairs and watched Kíli stoke the embers of the fire and bring more flame and warmth to the hearth with greater ease than any elf. It felt as though time had slowed here in Rivendell, or at least it mattered less. Sitting on the ottoman to face me once more, he took one of my hands into his and began tracing the lines on my palm before looking back into my eyes.

This didn’t do much to soothe his temper, but still a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We haven’t so many differences really.”

I sighed.  He was constantly trying to find the positive. As hopeful and idealistic as I could be, a part of me feared what our future held if we were truly united.

“Indeed we do, so do not be so stubborn as to ignore them. And though differences we have, I am not concerned with them, Kíli. It is the world that would not look kindly on us. We have already seen some of the discord even our proximity has created among your kin.”

“Damn their discord. I know what I want and... I think you do too.” A warm light sparkled in his eyes as a soft smile stretched upon his lips. He tugged me to the edge of my chair and kissed the palm of my hand, my heart thundering in response. I almost feared it would never recover from the hard and fast drumming that echoed in my ears.

I sat perched on the edge of the chair with him now almost between my legs, smiling in such a way I wanted to bite his lip. He was right. I knew what I wanted, though I had tried to deny it out of duty once. And then fear. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear and rested my hand on his cheek. “I’ve heard what some in Erebor call you not so kindly.”

“Right or wrong I'm used to it. I don’t care what they say. What they think. It only matters what you think.”

His hands rested on my waist and before he could move closer, I placed my hand on his chest.

“This would bind us,” I whispered.

He leaned closer and looked into my eyes in such a way I thought he might find my soul and what faults lay within me. I felt laid bare in front of him, my thoughts and desires his for the taking. It was unnerving to feel so seen and wanted when I’d not had eyes see me in this way for several centuries.

“I feel as though I was always bound to you. My fate has always been yours. I’ll not be bound to anyone else. If you would not have me, then say so.”

His abrupt and demanding tone took me by surprise. I shook my head to deny even the thought of not having him. I knew my own heart and knew that there would never be another for me to partner with. Should he cast me aside today, tomorrow, or a hundred years from now, I would never love or lie with another. Although faced with unknown years without him after his mortal life left him, my fear was not my own but for him.

“I would have you until the end of days. But Kíli…”

He grabbed my wrist and drew my hand from his chest. “I have told you before and will tell you for the rest of my days. I know how I feel,  _ amrâlimê _ . That will not change. It is a promise.”

Before I could utter another word of caution, his hand was in my hair and gripping my neck as he drew me to him. His lips pressed against mine and I surrendered. The scent and taste of him filled my senses as his tongue brushed mine. My arms wrapped around him as if to anchor me and I clung to him, desperate to never let go.

I broke the kiss when a surprised gasp escaped my lips as I felt him pick me up and wrap my legs around him. He grinned wickedly at me, knowing just how much I hadn’t expected it. Even with our difference in height, he didn’t falter. He walked across the room, pulling me back to him for another kiss as I sank against him. Placing me gently on the edge of the bed, his lips moved to my neck as his hands stroked up my back and down again to grip my waist. I found my hands in his hair as my head fell back, giving him access to the length of my throat. My pulse jumped and hammered against his lips.

I was so lost in the feel of his body, my legs still wrapped around him, and his lips on my neck that I didn’t notice his hands making quick and easy work of my tunic. He slipped it off over my head and his mouth roamed across my collar bone, his teeth grazing my shoulder. I shivered and sighed when his warm hands returned to my waist, a contrast to the slight chill in the room even if I felt fire in my blood. The air around us felt heavy and thick and I struggled not to sink into the fog of it as he kissed me again with all the heat of a sun burst.

“How do you do this to me? Where did you learn to kiss this way?” I struggled to ask with the thick air filling my lungs.

“I said I’d never laid with a maid before, not that I was a tenderfoot.”

I didn’t bother asking what he meant. He looked at me, eyes dark and fierce, a devilish grin hinting at the corners of his mouth. He loosened my legs around him and stepped back to remove his own heavy layers. He kept his eyes on me as he worked at his belt and trousers, my hands seeking the flesh of his chest through the black curls on his body. It was softer than I expected.

“You’re so soft.”

He looked amused and raised an eyebrow at me as he chuckled. “I’ll beg you to  _ never _ say that to anyone, or I’ll be the laughing stock! More than I already am!”

I blushed. “I mean your hair. There’s so much of it. I thought it would be coarse but it’s soft. The rest of you is solid and sturdy.”

He smiled as my hands wandered across his chest, probing at his strong and hard muscles underneath the curls that thinned as the line of hair trailed down his stomach. Lost in tracing my fingers along his chest and collarbone, his shoulders and back, I did not notice his movements until I heard the clink of his belt hit the floor. I looked back into his eyes and he stepped close again, his hands reaching for my waist, his mouth capturing mine in a greedy mating of tongues. The breath backed up in my lungs and my pulse hammered as his fingers deftly loosened my waistband. Each time they brushed my skin, I trembled at his warm touch and felt myself go damp. I wanted to chide myself for feeling so inexperienced and vulnerable. Though I knew he had not been with another completely, it was clear we were not so evenly matched as nervousness coursed through me.

He lifted me just slightly with great ease and slid my leggings from me, his eyes still locked on mine. I felt heat rising to my face, but I removed my last undergarments as he did, and reached a hand out to him to pull him back to me.

“Tauriel, you  _ are _ starlight.” He said it softly, his lips an inch from mine. The kiss hovered a breath away until my hands moved around to his shoulders and I moved my mouth to his.

I couldn’t think. I simply knew I wanted more, wanted all. His hands molded to my sides, slipping to my hips as he moved me back on the bed only to lever himself next to me. His eyes dark, he broke the kiss and I thought I might implode from my desire for him. When I reached again for him, his fingers curled around my wrist and he shook his head.

“Tauriel…  _ Amrâlimê… _ If you stop me now, I might die all over again. But tell me this is what you want or I will. I need to hear you say it. I would not touch you or bind you to me if you are unsure.”

I moved my free hand to his face and stroked his cheek, my fingers grazing along the top of his ear. “ _ Meleth nîn. Aníron le, Kíli.  _ I will bind myself to none but you. _ ” _

When I drew him to me again, I could feel the smile on his lips. But sweetness gave way to hunger as he gripped one hand at the back of my neck, kneading there as his other snaked a trembling trail down my side to my hip and over my belly. His palm glided hot and teasing over my flesh back up to my breasts. As he filled his hand, my body strained against him as a moan built in my throat. His mouth released mine and began feasting on my neck and throat again, trailing kisses and nips from my chin down between my breasts. When he took my breast into his mouth so gently at first, I groaned in new found pleasure. There was such a strong sense of need infused with overwhelming emotion waging war on my system that I thought I would burn from it.

It felt like a trail of fire was left in the wake of his hands and mouth as he moved down me, my skin singed with every touch, bite, and kiss.

“You are so beautiful. Long and lean.” He kissed my belly and sent shivers through me. “Unending legs that go on forever.” His hand trailed down my hips and thighs to my calves. His fingers brushed lightly behind my knee and I felt like I might turn to liquid.

He slid back up me as I trembled under him, until his face was close to mine again. I was swamped by the overwhelming love and desire I had for him. He kissed me softly as his hand slid between us and he pressed his palm firm on the mound between my thighs. I could feel my body vibrating with tension like a drawn bowstring.

Planting another open mouthed kiss on my throat, Kíli groaned against my neck as he slid a finger down, over, into me. I felt my eyes glaze and nearly roll in my head. He looked at me then, and I wondered if he could recognize all the emotions coursing through me, changing from shock and helplessness to desperation and need. I tried to focus, but I felt dazed, disoriented as an intense and vicious spear of pleasure shot through me. It was like being in the middle of an explosion of stars. In the haze I could see Kíli flushed and smiling as I reached for him.

I wanted his mouth on mine, his hands anywhere, everywhere. My own raced over his shoulders and back as he gripped my hips. My nails dug into his back as I felt him so torturously slowly slip inside me, his face so close to mine and watching me with every move. I wanted to close my eyes but I couldn’t look away from him, our eyes locked on one another. My body ached and closed around him, greedy and wanting. The need felt like teeth scraping at me to be forever mated with him. The sound that escaped me could only be termed a whimper and it felt so foreign to feel so overtaken and weak. When he had buried himself within me, he let his forehead come to rest on mine as he groaned and found my mouth again with his.

As he moved inside me, deep, slow, his mouth roamed over my throat, his teeth teasing my earlobes. My body was overwhelmed and I tried to hold on to my sanity with every velvety shock that shuddered through me. Even the light brushing of his chest hair along my nipples sent ripples through me. I gripped his broad shoulders and moaned his name as my hips rocked to meet his every thrust. 

He urged me on and up, his hand linking with mine as he drew my arms above my head. With his other hand, he grasped my thigh, raising my hips as I wrapped my leg around him tightly. When he kissed me again, my fingers gripped his, my body arching into him. My breath felt heavy in my lungs and all I could see was his face as he watched me. All I could feel was the slow rhythm and long strokes of his body meeting mine, the fierce friction between us, and the rising pressure inside me begging for more. I felt again a wave of pleasure but this time it shimmered through my entire being like gold, with none of the sharpness as before. The glorious ache that washed through me had me crying out his name just before I felt his body tighten. He collapsed on top of me, burying his face against my neck, his hand moving into my hair.

 

“Are you alright?” He asked me.

“Mmm.” I nodded as much as my weak muscles would allow. “I am perfect, Kíli.”

We lay quiet and still, our bodies still meshed together. My limbs felt as heavy as stone and as loose as water as I wove my fingers through his curls. He sighed and shivered as I stroked fingers up and down his back.

“You’ll put me to sleep if you keep that up.”

“Sleep then.”

He propped himself up, his hands on either side of my head. “We both know I’ve slept enough for a lifetime. And I wouldn’t want to miss any more time with you than I already have.”

He gently rolled over onto his back and curled me into his side. He tilted my chin up to kiss me briefly. I closed my eyes and absorbed the feel of his body against mine, his scent, the lingering taste of him on my lips. Never had I known how love and desire could manifest in such a way. Explosions of starlight, and waterfalls of pleasure had consumed me completely.

“I always thought elves didn’t sleep.” I heard the amusement in his husky voice but kept my eyes closed.

“We do. Sometimes. Though it is not the same kind of sleep as you. I did sleep in a manner as you know it when wounded. But I am not sleeping.”

“Good.”

I opened my eyes and squinted at him suspiciously. “Good? Why?”

He quite suddenly grabbed me and rolled me under him again with a wicked grin. “We can put the sleeplessness of elves to the test against dwarven stamina.”

I laughed as he nimbly lowered himself between my legs and kissed his way from my ankles to my belly. When I felt his warm breath on me and his tongue begin to explore, my laughter quickly turned to moans. My body bowed under his hands and his mouth. But when his lips returned to mine, I gasped when he filled me. I was too lost to pleasure to keep wondering just what sort of stamina my dwarf possessed, sure that he planned to show me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> “Meleth nîn. Aníron le, Kíli.” - (My love. I want you, Kili)


End file.
